


this con that we call love

by cinderlily



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Angst, Fake Marriage, M/M, Misunderstandings, Researched but probably wrong Canadian citizenship rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 00:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12829605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: 'It all started on Election Night 2016, a night that was full of pity and drinks. A lot a lot a lot of drinks. At one point in the night, as Pennsylvania was falling, Jon honestly started to cry, his whole chest burning with the urge to just curl up and run the fuck away from life. Favs and Tommy sat on either side of him, in stunned silence, but he let out an honest sob from the center of his chest.'AKA, the fic where Mike Pence is crazier than normal and the guys figure out a way to keep Lovett safe, except it all fails spectacularly, in the best way possible.





	this con that we call love

**Author's Note:**

> My second piece in Nano saves America. Hopefully you like it. <3

It all started on Election Night 2016, a night that was full of pity and drinks. A lot a lot a lot of drinks. At one point in the night, as Pennsylvania was falling, Jon honestly started to cry, his whole chest burning with the urge to just curl up and run the fuck away from life. Favs and Tommy sat on either side of him, in stunned silence, but he let out an honest sob from the center of his chest. 

“Lovett,” Favs said, his hand landing soft on his lower back. “We can do this. It’ll be fine.” 

The sadness turned to anger, and he pushed himself to standing. “Fuck you, Favreau. Are you kidding me? You are a golden boy. White bread, heteronormative Golden American. Who do they come for first? The Jewish side of me? Or the GAY side of me? Either way, I assure you I am not going to be _fine_.” 

“We’ll go to Canada,” Favs blurted out. “I’ll get you citizenship.” 

“It doesn’t work like that.” He looked down. “It’s not like a fucking iPhone. You can’t just _buy in_.” 

Favs blinked at him slowly. “Well, I can sponsor you. I mean, it might be a while, but I can sponsor you… in case.” 

The room was weirdly quiet, with the sound of the TV droning on in the background, claiming the victory and waiting for the speech. His brain was just full enough with liquor that he had to process the information given to him in a slow manner before he could bring himself back to the present enough to form a question. 

“How would you sponsor me?” 

“I have dual citizenship,” Favs said, like this was the most obvious thing that he had ever said. “Remember?” 

Jon looked at Tommy, who was looking at Favs with about as much incredulity as he was feeling. Tommy asked the question on Jon’s lips. “You have dual citizenship?” 

“Yeah,” Jon said. “You guys have met my dad, right?” 

They had met his dad, a couple times, with the slight remnant of an accent that he’d always figured was some midwest thing. He wasn’t really that into the middle of the country in general. In fact, he wasn’t that into Favs’s familial history. Not like he was against it, he was just… a human adult with other things on his mind. 

“French Canadian? I’ve had dual citizenship since was I was maybe four and they ponied up for it for Andy and me.”

“This is a nightmare,” Jon said, sitting back down in his spot and putting his head in his hands. “I’m going to wake up tomorrow morning and it’ll be this morning and our country won’t have voted in Tr—… an angry xenophobic homophobic racist Cheeto and my friend won’t be half Canadian and all will be normal. Everything will be totally normal.” 

* 

He woke the next morning on Favs’s couch, it was not magically the day before and he was hung over as fuck. Also, the government was being handed to the Cheeto and not Hillary Clinton. It was like waking up the morning after the worst break up. He stared at the ceiling and kind of wished he could just go back to sleep. But he knew he couldn’t. 

He made his way to Favs’s guest bath, relieved himself and splashed water on his face. There was a small bottle of mouthwash under the sink, because _Favs_ and he swished it around and spit it out. It didn’t take the nasty taste out of his mouth but he hoped it ebbed the probably horrid breath he had.

When he walked into the kitchen he found Favs staring down the coffee maker as it dripped caffeine into the pot. He made a noise and Favs turned. He looked about as good as Jon was sure he did. He put a hand up. 

Favs grabbed a small white bottle and handed it to Jon. Aspirin. Of course. He took three, putting his mouth under the water in the sink and drinking a fair bit more after that. He was not exactly in a good place, but he felt marginally better. 

“Where’s Tommy? Dan?” 

“Hanna picked him up about a half hour after you passed out,” Favs said. 

Jon nodded, not exactly the best idea as his stomach roiled at the movement. “When did I pass out?” 

“Eleven.” 

“And you didn’t even draw on me,” he muttered. “Party foul.” 

Favs frowned. “It didn’t feel exactly like a party.” 

“You don’t say,” Jon said. The coffee seemed to be stopping and without thinking about it Jon turned to the cabinet behind him to grab two mugs. He’d been in this kitchen enough. 

He shoved an ‘Obama 2008’ mug at Favs and flinched but neither of them said a word as he filled it up. The other mug, a rather atrocious one from what had to be a trip to Disneyland, had Mickey and Minnie kissing with hearts coming up from it, was filled next. He took the Obama one. 

They walked over to the small two seater table in the corner and sat down. Favs kept looking at the table like he was going to say something but after a couple of minutes it was obvious he wasn’t going to actually do so. 

“What time do we have to be at the studio?” Jon asked, just to break the silence. 

Favs looked at his watch. “Not till 1:30. We’ve got some time.” 

“Good, I should probably shower and get in a proper cry or something,” he said, but his humor wasn’t in it. 

“Lovett,” Favs said. “I’ll sponsor you.” 

Jon blinked. “You’re _Canadian_.” 

“Half,” Favs said. “Though that wasn’t easy to explain to you last night, so I don’t see why it would change this morning.” 

“You worked in the White House.” 

Favs let out a low chuckle. “You really don’t remember much from last night. Yes. You can work in the White House with dual citizenship. Yes, I disclosed it. No, the FBI will not be at my house to take me back to Canada. That’s not even their job.” 

“Well, fuck me,” Jon sighed. “Maybe we can talk about this when I don’t want to melt into my bed and never come out. But… like. Thanks, Favs.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Favs said. 

* 

Once the dust settled after the election and they started taking building their own company seriously… well. It became a joke. Jon bought Favs a fuck ton of maple syrup samples for Christmas. Filled up an entire FedEx box to the very top, so much so that the bottom bent downwards. 

Tommy would occasionally throw the word ‘Eh’ at the end of a question in podcasts and Favs would glare at him. 

When they did their first interview with President Obama, Dan and Tommy found a small Canadian flag and put it near the table they were going to do the interview at. Obama thought it was hilarious, especially when explained to him. He had, in fact, known that he was dealing with a dual citizen but he still liked ribbing Favs whenever he could. 

It wasn’t until the first time the Trans ban in the military came up that Jon’s fears resurfaced. He had Trans friends. The G and the T weren’t too far separated in LGBT and he wasn’t comfortable with the fact that the Idiot in Chief felt it was so okay to just throw humans under a train like that. 

He had deliberately made it known early in their friendship that his friends were not allowed to treat him like the gay friend in any way. So when he walked in on a conversation that was seemingly about the Trans ban and it went deadly quiet, his already frayed nerves snapped. 

“REALLY, GUYS?” he turned and walked out. 

He got so far as his office when he heard footsteps behind him. “Lovett, wait.” 

Favs, because of course it would be Favreau. Superman in action. 

“What do you want?” Jon sighed, not looking back as he opened the door. 

“We weren’t talking about what you think,” Favs said. 

Jon turned on his heel. “Really? Cause it sounded like you stopped talking because you were talking about LGBT issues and the gay guy showed up. _Awkward_.” 

“Okay,” Favs frowned. “Okay, sort of about what you were thinking of. Just not the Trans ban…” 

“That makes it better.” 

“I think you should move in with me,” Favs said, in one fast exhale. 

Jon’s jaw went to his chest and he blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry, I believe I just had a tiny stroke. Can you repeat that?”

“Look, I’ve been looking things up,” Favs said. “And I talked to my Uncle who lives in Canada. The easiest way to get sponsored without living IN Canada is to live with your sponsor. We’ll have to get married, but not tomorrow. It’ll be in a while. But it will work out. Then you’ll have time—“ 

“MARRIED?” Jon shrieked, he wasn’t too proud to admit. “What the hell are you smoking? I mean it’s legal and all that but maybe you went too strong…” 

Favs tilted his head and glared. “Lovett, I wouldn’t do this out of nowhere. I… The guys and I have discussed it.” 

“Oh gee, a proposal by committee, this is hitting all of my dreams at once,” Jon said, rolling his eyes. “I appreciate your concern here, but I’m not Trans. I am not in the military.” 

Favs eyes shifted to the left, just past Jon’s shoulder. “There’s been … um. Rumors.” 

“Rumors about what?” Jon asked. 

“Tommy’s talked to some of his friends on the Hill and Pence has been trying to push some legislation through some back channels,” Favs said. “He’s been throwing around numbers and all the weight he’s got.” 

There was a joke there, Jon could feel it on the tip of his tongue but he was feeling kind of nauseated at that point. He didn’t need to ask what kind of legislation. If it was Pence and the guys were this nervous… well. It was clearly about the LGBT community and it was even clearer that it was not good 

Favs made a noise to get his attention. “If you move in now, we can act like we made the decision organically. It’ll look better on paper. And the longer you live with me and we’re married… well. You accrue hours towards citizenship without living in Canada.” 

“Wouldn’t us getting married put YOU in danger? What if we got found out as a fake marriage? That’s a fraud, Favs. You would be committing _fraud_.” 

“If we can get to Canada and get your citizenship, it will be worth it. We’ve lived in each other’s pockets for the better part of a decade, Lovett. It’s not like it’s going to be that hard to play it off as dating,” Favs said, his hands on either hip. Superman indeed. 

Jon wished he could actually send daggers out of his eyes, but by the looks of it his attempt was enough to be stressful for Favs. “I think your copious ex-girlfriends and my ex-boyfriends might be an indicator.” 

“There were plenty of gaps where we were both single, Lovett,” Favs said. “We just point towards those as an indicator. That we were both kind of shy about it and it happened or didn’t. Then it clicked.” 

“Have you been watching Nora Ephron again?” 

Favs smiled. “You know I love the smell of fresh pencils, see that’s one thing.” 

“Oh god,” Jon sighed, he was thinking about it. “You’re crazy.” 

He was actually genuinely considering it. That alone should be an indicator of his own insanity. He put his hands up and grabbed at his hair. This was not something people did. It was what people did in stupid films that ended up with lines like, ‘What next?’ or ‘This is just the beginning’. The kind that he always hated, but Ronan had thought were deep and meaningful. 

He inhaled deeply. “Okay, I will move in. I’m month to month, I was going to sign on for another year but whatever. I’ll move in with you. Cheaper rent and we can put the dogs together. But marriage? We’re going to have a long as hell talk about that…” 

“Oh, come on, marrying me wouldn’t be _that_ bad,” Favs raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I was once in People’s Sexiest… I could be considered a catch.” 

This was a discussion they’d had too many times to count but Lovett brushed him off yet again. “Sexiest staff writer is like winning sexiest person in the room. It’s not an award, it’s an observation.” 

“Want to go do the rundown?” 

He swallowed and tilted his neck back and forth to stretch the ache in the base of his neck. “You guys treat me with kid gloves and I will use adult fists.” 

“No kid gloves,” Favs put his arms up as if in defeat. “Promise.” 

* 

It seemed to stream line from there. Two weeks later he had a stream of movers crossing the street from his house, well… his old house. He had no ownership over it anymore and all of his larger possessions were in the back of a small movers’ truck cause he sure as hell wasn’t going to do any of the moving. 

He’d put all of his furniture in a large storage facility, because who knew how long this shit show was going to last. He also had talked to the owner of the house he had been renting about keeping his name on a list to keep himself on the radar. 

Pundit had been sent ahead the night before, to keep it as low key as possible. It was pretty surreal to get to the front door of Favs house and open it up to find his dog and Leo rolling on the ground and Favs standing in casual clothes with two cups of coffee. If he was crazy enough to let himself believe in things like this, it would be homey. 

Instead he told himself to accept this as what it was, a deal. And he had been involved in a lot of deals. Deals that fell through, things that got canceled. He was more than capable of handling if this fell through. 

He directed the moving guys to the bedroom right beside the master, one he’d crashed at after many parties in the past. Favs had done his part in stripping it down to just a bed and a dresser. Everything else was his to put together. They piled half of his boxes in the corner and it was actually shocking to see how little he had. 

The other half went into the living room. They were full of awards, pictures, things that Favs insisted needed to be around the house to remind him that it was _also_ his house now. Leo and Pundit happily jumped around the workers, and Jon calculated just how much he had to add to the tip because of the annoying siblings. 

When the movers had left the house it was quiet for all of five minutes before the dogs were back to fighting and Favs was at his side. 

“You okay, Lovett?” 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

Favs took the cup out of Jon’s hand and tipped it over. “You finished this about ten minutes ago but have been taking sips of air.” 

“This is crazy, Favs,” he said, just so it was out in the open. “This is genuinely crazy.” 

“I think we’ll be fine,” Favs said.

Jon frowned. “You aren’t freaking out _at all_?” 

Favs shrugged. “It’s you, Lovett. I trust you. You trust me?” 

“That isn’t even a question, but join me in the freaking out, Jon.”

“I’ll leave it up to you, you’re pretty good at it.” 

He grabbed the coffee cup out of Favs’ hand, and with a look grabbed Favs’ empty cup as well. “I’m getting more coffee.” 

“You think that’s a good idea, Lovett?” 

“What, don’t you trust me?” he tossed over his shoulder. He thought the smirk on his face was evident even without Favs seeing it. 

He returned a few minutes later to hand over Favs’ cup. Enough milk to almost make it milk with coffee flavoring, whereas his was nice and dark and full of as much caffeine as was sane. 

Favs was on the floor in front of his book case, cross legged, putting away _Jon’s_ books. 

“Hey, those could be private,” Jon griped, handing Favs his cup. 

“Private that you were planning on putting up?” Favs asked and Jon had to concede defeat. “You know, we have a lot of crossover. I’m trying to weed out the doubles.” 

There was a large pile to the left of Favs with a pile of books that were mostly unsurprising repeats. His copy of ‘Audacity of Hope’ and the Ron Chernow books he was going to get to during his next bit of free time, so sometime before he died ideally. He sat his coffee on the table in nearest to them, putting a coaster down as Favs was nuts about stuff like that. 

“I think I still have room in my storage, so I’ll take a load over later,” he said, picking up a big binder of DVDs he held onto mostly for nostalgia. He put it up on the shelf nearest Favs’s Playstation. 

He looked back to find Favs giving him a weird look. “Storage?” 

“Yeah, where all my furniture went. You think I just sold all of it?” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

Jon shrugged. “Cause I might need it?” 

“We can sell some of my stuff. You can bring your headboard and stuff. My house is yours, pretty much literally.” 

Favs was flicking through the books again, putting a few more on the pile. Jon stared at him with incredulity but it was missed out because apparently books were more important. “It’s in case this doesn’t work out.” 

“Doesn’t work out?” Favs frowned. “Come on, we’ve talked about this. This is the best course of action.” 

“I get it, _boss_ ,” he said. “But you’ve never lived with me. There is only so much a person can handle of me. Plus, what if I get sick of you?” 

Favs sighed. “Did you hate me after the live shows?” 

“We had separate rooms,” Jon pointed out. 

“We have separate rooms _here_ ,” Favs pointed down the hall at the rooms in question. “Come on, just relax. Do you want me to order lunch? There’s that place a few blocks over that makes bao. You like bao, right?”

Jon did, in fact, like bao. Favs grinned triumphantly and placed the order on his phone. They went back to quietly unpacking. He left the books for Favs to check the for double copies and emptied the boxes with his media. It was comfortable. Pundit and Leo came over at one time, finally tired of beating each other up for a good chunk of the morning, and curled up at their feet. 

It was entirely good that Pundit was smaller than Leo as the two of them lying next to each other looked far too similar. (Well, except Pundit was obviously the superior dog.) 

The doorbell rang an hour later and they sat at Favs’s (or their?) table to eat lunch. He went for a Diet Coke rather than another cup of coffee. He was feeling a little shaky, which was hilarious, as he usually had an IV drip of coffee when he was on set. But it was probably adrenaline as well as everything else. 

The dogs seemed to be catching up with something happening, as they started to follow the two of them everywhere. Not that Pundit wasn’t pretty codependent on the regular but it was even more noticeable when he would turn to get a fork and find her sitting there just staring up. 

“I think the dogs are confused,” Jon offered and Favs looked up from where he was rubbing Leo’s ears to shrug. 

“Well, sleep overs are rare, now your scent is getting brought in,” he said and then started to use the voice he used on Leo only. “These pups are pretty freaking brilliant, right Leo? Right, Pundit? Smart stock.” 

Pundit, upon hearing her name, went trotting over to Favs and dug her head into his lap. The two dogs tails were wagging and they were both halfway up Favs’ lap. It was… oddly endearing. 

“By the way, you let Pundit sleep with you?” 

He felt a little blush. “Uh. Sometimes.” All the time, the answer was all the time. 

“You should have told me, I fought her on it for a while. Then, of course she got up and Leo thought it free reign, so good thing I’ve got a King, right?” 

Jon couldn’t help himself. “You know me, good with a Queen.” 

Favs rolled his eyes. “Every time. Every time.” 

“It’s a rule. I can’t change LGBT rules without a majority,” Jon slipped back into his chair and grabbed a bao that looked like the chicken broccoli one. He hoped. 

They ate while discussing some of the tweets from the day before. He swore that he was completely baffled that as a person in MEDIA he’d been less concerned with his actors’ tweets than he was when he was in politics. But it was the way it was. Favs took out his phone and started making notes for the show. 

“It’s weird without Tommy and Dan fighting with us,” Favs said. “Nice, but weird.” 

“We could invite them over, if you’d like,” Jon said, sipping at his drink. “I can set up my room later.” 

Favs shook his head. “First night in the house, should just be us.” 

Jon wondered how he was supposed to react to that. ‘ _This is fake_ ’ would probably be the easiest way to go, but his gut reaction was that it might get him sad Favreau and that was possibly the worst type of Favreau. He generally looked like a he got gut punched and wanted to cry. Jon avoided making him do that as much as possible. 

“Pop some popcorn, watch Fox News,” Jon teased. 

Favs made the appropriate reaction to that, which was a gagging noise. “I’d prefer to watch my own birth.” 

“That’s a weird place to jump to.” 

“My mom always offered it up to Andy when he said he didn’t want to watch something. They didn’t have a camera for mine. Naturally, Andy was on screen from day one,” Jon laughed. 

Jon shuddered. “I’m glad my mom wouldn’t have wanted to have that on record. Who the hell needs to see that?” 

“We could see if any sports are on? I think the Kings are playing.” 

Jon raised his eyebrows. “That’s… hockey?” 

“Okay, we can pop in a movie.” 

“Or rewatch West Wing for the tenth time.” 

Favs grinned. “See, already best fiancé.” 

“I told you we’d talk about the fiancé thing…” Jon said but Favs was obviously willfully ignoring him. 

“Do you need help getting your room set up?” 

Jon shook his head, making a face. “I’ll do that. Have I mentioned I hate moving?” 

“Only twice a day since we decided to do this,” Favs said. 

Jon tilted his head. “Tell me more about how ‘we’ decided this, Favreau.” 

“I think I’ll take the dogs on a r-u-n,” Favs said. “While you do your room. It’ll get their energy out and they won’t be underfoot.” 

He imagined Pundit running next to Favs and contained a laugh. He could figure out just how much Pundit loved running on a leash. It would be his move in gift to Favs. He finished the bao and took a long swig of soda. 

“Okay, I might as well start,” he said. “Or I’m going to talk myself out of it.” 

“I’m going to get changed,” he said. 

Jon started cleaning up the table and Favs put his hand out to stop him. “Not a guest, Favs. You paid, I can put the dishes in the washer.” 

Favs smiled and nodded. “Okay. Sorry. Forgot.” 

Favs turned and walked towards the bedrooms and Jon caught sight of his ass. Which he was man and gay enough to admit was pretty freaking nice. It was a hate to see him go, love to watch him leave type situation. Which he was going to put a stop to, as this was complicated enough. Except Favs turned around and laughed. 

“Saw that.” 

“Fuck you,” he said cheerfully. “You have a stain on your jeans.” 

Favs looked down and tried to see if it was true, which it totally wasn’t but Jon had a momentary feeling of relief at the fact that he got him. 

He put the last dish in the washer and turned to Leo, who was staring at him with that weird glare that always made him think that he actually understood his environment better than his sibling. “Your Uncle Jon is kind of fucked.” 

Leo blinked and then started to pant in a smile. 

Everyone was a critic. 

*

Almost an hour later he heard the front door open. He’d made his bed, possibly for the first time since… the last time he moved in somewhere, and put up a few of his favorite pictures. He’d also well hidden his box of sex toys because he got the feeling he’d need them but the last thing he wanted was to have Jon find them. He was just finished setting up his Smart TV, because he had priorities. The last three boxes would be put away… sometime. 

He walked out to find Favs looking bright red from the run and Pundit in his arms. 

“Your dog just stopped twenty minutes ago,” Favs said, panting. 

He smiled. “Yeah, she likes to do that.” 

“Like in the middle of jogging she just _stopped_ and lay down,” Favs said again, like Jon was going to act shocked. Favs put Pundit down, just in time for her to walk over to a dog bed Jon’d brought over and curl up. 

“She’s not much of a jogger,” Jon said. 

Favs frowned. “Something you couldn’t have told me before I had to walk for twenty minutes holding your dog?” 

“Nope,” he said, making sure to pop the ‘p’. 

“You can be an asshole sometimes,” Favs huffed, but smiled. “We live together, dangerous starting a land war in your own country.” 

Jon smirked. “Oooh, shaking in my boots.” 

Leo, who was running around in circles around Favs, barked. “Ugh, I have to give him water and a treat, then I’m taking a shower. You almost done in your room?” 

“Yeah,” he said. It was true, mostly. He wasn’t going to touch the left over boxes. Hell, one of them he was pretty sure was still closed from his LAST move. “More or less.” 

Favs walked into the kitchen and came back out holding a small chewy bone that he handed to the still exhausted looking Pundit. 

“Suck up.” 

Favs shrugged and stood up. “I treat my dogs right. And I’ll build up her exercise levels. Slow but sure.” 

“You work on that,” Jon said. Favs was covered in sweat, wearing ridiculous shorts and an old shirt from the White House. Jon had to bite the inside of his cheek. This was day one, he had to get his head in the game here. Favs took a step towards him and he opened his mouth. “Go take a shower, you smell.” 

“Aww, thanks. You say the nicest things,” Favs said, and stepped around him towards the hallway that lead to the bedrooms and the shower. He threw over his shoulder. “Go set up West Wing. And we aren’t skipping to ‘Big Block of Cheese’, start at the beginning.” 

Jon rolled his eyes. “I set it up and I get to make the choices. It’s a marriage thing. Compromise!” 

The words hit him just in time to turn around and see Favs freeze mid step. He turned slightly. His face seemed genuinely curious. “Marriage?” 

“I SAID I WAS THINKING ABOUT IT,” Jon snapped. 

“Okay, okay,” Favs turned back around. “Whatever you say.” 

Jon was bright red and he knew it. He went into Favs’ kitchen and found some poppable popcorn. He made some and grabbed a few beers. It was just barely past two in the afternoon but it was moving day so he allowed himself a concession. 

He put in the disc for West Wing and set up his favorite episode with a grin. They could go back to the first episode whenever. This episode was made of pure gold and it wasn’t like they didn’t know most of it by heart either way. 

* 

They watched the first Big Block of Cheese Episode, and then they went back to the first episode. It was one of those things that they would have done any number of times before but the fact that ‘going home’ would require him walking twenty feet rather than across the street was somehow weirdly intimate and almost too much. 

Even though the move hadn’t really required _that much_ work, and he’d paid other people to do most of it, he was left feeling exhausted. It felt like three days in one and the afternoon seeped into evening in a way that made him curl up into himself on the couch. 

Before he knew what had happened he felt a hand on his shoulder shaking slightly. The room’s light had shifted considerably. It was dark, the lights turned on just in the kitchen next door. “I made dinner. You hungry?” 

“You… made dinner?” he blinked, still righting himself. The screen was playing the theme music to West Wing on repeat, which was too soothing for normal people. He wanted to use it as a sleep noise. 

“Well, _Jon_ , let me tell you about Blue Apron. They send you the ingredients…” Favs successfully ducked the pillow that Jon picked up and chucked at him. “Come on, it’s like 7.” 

He groaned. “How long did you let me sleep? I’m never going to sleep tonight.” 

Favs shrugged. “You were tired. Plus I think I slept for a while. One of the episodes felt suspiciously shorter than I’m used to.” 

*

They made it through a week of living together, an occasion that Favs decided warranted dinner and a movie, _outside of the house_. Jon wasn’t a hermit or anything, but really the week had been long between moving his crap around the house and getting the dogs used to living together in a way beyond that wasn’t just visits. 

But Favs was pretty insistent and he Jon couldn’t say no to him in the best of circumstances, let alone when he held a good Anna Kendrick movie and the possibility of a steak. He was a simple man. Neither of them got dressed up, even if the restaurant mostly warranted it. They weren’t looking like they lived in filth, but the Mâitre D did give them a look that was reminiscent of his mother when he got the giggles during his bar mitzvah. 

This caused them to laugh through out dinner, especially when Jon explained the reason he was laughing was his 14 year old cousin spent the whole time making faces when the Rabbi wasn’t looking and he wasn’t good enough to resist looking at him. It was a tradition in their family, apparently, cousins only. He had to do it to the next bas mitzvah and so on. He was just lucky he didn’t choke on water or the Rabbi didn’t catch them. 

He realized halfway through the meal that Favs’s laugh was contagious, because sure, it was a funny story and he was a good storyteller but they had veered to other topics but come back to Favs chuckling and he couldn’t help but laugh with him. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the sound or the face Favs made, but it made him feel good. 

They weren’t kicked out of the restaurant, which was nice as the food was pretty good. They had reserved seats on the aisle because Lovett had the bladder of a pregnant lady and Favs needed extra room to stretch out his legs. At one point, out of nowhere, Favs let out a laugh so loud and unwarranted that Lovett couldn’t help but join in. 

The people around them were really not amused. He shoved soda at Favs and Favs took small sips, which was somehow hilarious to Jon, but he covered it by drinking his own soda. It was the most random evening he’d had, and the fact that by all rules except one (Favs’s sexuality) it was a date, somehow made it the best night in recent memory. Even if he ached at the idea that he wished it was real more than he could actually put to words. 

They got home and Favs mentioned that he’d gotten the macaroons that Jon liked from Trader Joe’s, so he went to the kitchen to grab them. 

He wasn’t sure what brought it on but when Favs returned with the see through box, his face wide with a smile and shirt sleeves rucked up to show his forearms Jon blurted out the thing that had been lingering in the back of his mind all night. 

“I’ll marry you.” 

Favs stopped about six feet from Jon and tilted his head. “What?” 

“This week hasn’t been a full on shit show, and you laugh at my jokes, and you got me those stupid macaroons and so … I’ll marry you.” 

“Well, who said romance was dead,” Favs laughed. “Had I known, I would have bought the macaroons last week.” 

Jon felt something dangerous in his stomach, thoughts that shouldn’t continue in his brain like that. Favs threw the macaroons on the couch and filled in the gap to give Jon a tight hug, no dumb pats involved. 

“My macaroons,” he said, mostly because he was afraid he’d say something stupid like, ‘Kiss me’.

Jon let out a loud bark of a laugh, but turned around and grabbed the box of cookies. When he turned back around, he got down on one knee. 

“Jonathan Ira, will you fake marry me for Canadian citizenship?” 

He laughed, even though he didn’t really find it that funny. 

*

On the fourth Saturday he lived in Favs’ house he woke up on his wedding day. He stared at the ceiling for a solid five minutes; his alarm hadn’t even gone off. He could go back to sleep, but he wasn’t going to. He walked out to the kitchen to find Favs at the counter with a cup of coffee and his running shorts on, a little sweaty. 

This wasn’t what his wedding was supposed to be like. Not that it was bad, at all. It wasn’t in a hovel, or anything. Just in Favs’s… _their_ backyard. It had only been a week since he’d said yes, that he would. Well, a week and two days. They’d had their suits from Tommy’s wedding. They’d gotten a Justice of the Peace. 

Favs slid him a cup of coffee in a cup that was large and white and said. ‘Mr.’ in cursive, turning his cup to show the little ‘Mr.’ on his. He was smiling. There was a weird sense of something in Jon’s stomach. It wasn’t nerves, exactly, maybe excitement or anxiety… 

“Hanna got them for us,” he said. “I’m just thankful she didn’t get us those shirts, you know how she wore the BRIDE one pretty much the entire weekend.” 

“She also had those booty shorts,” Jon said. “You could have rocked ‘Groom’ on your ass as you ran the dogs this morning.” 

Favs laughed. “The neighbors would have loved that.” 

“Good point,” Jon shrugged. “My ass to ogle.” 

“Is that so?” Favs said, raising an eyebrow. 

Jon blushed a little. “It’s in the vows, I think. Little known section.” 

“Well, if it’s in the vows,” Favs nodded, straight faced. 

“When do people show up?” 

Favs looked over at the microwave clock. “Hanna, Howli and Tanya are showing up in an hour. Apparently just throwing some chairs outside is considered gauche. The boys will probably amble in after that.” 

“Amble, nice word Favreau,” he sipped his coffee. 

“Lovett-Favreau,” he smirked. “Or was it Favreau-Lovett?”

“For the eleventh time, our names are confusing enough. No hyphens necessary.” 

They sipped at their coffees in silence, the dogs who were both clearly exhausted from the run they’d taken in puddles at their feet. It was nauseatingly domestic and… Jon liked it. He more than liked it. He tried to remind himself of all the reasons that he’d said yes to the marriage. To the fact that it was best for all involved. The citizenship. But for that moment it was about the fact that he was seated next to one of his best friends and listening to their dogs snuffling, drinking coffee and comfortably not talking. 

The doorbell rang and the dogs lifted their heads. 

“Don’t get up, boys,” Favs said. “I’ll get it.” 

He walked out of the room and a second later Jon heard familiar voices. Too many of them. He walked out to find half of their office walking in, all in dress down with bags over their shoulders. Favs looked at Jon, thankfully just as bewildered as he felt. 

“Um, hi?” Jon looked down at his ratty sleep pants and thread bare shirt. 

“You guys aren’t even showered!” Lydia clapped a hand to her forehead. “Get on that. Jesus.” 

Jon looked at his wrist, remembering belatedly he hadn’t put his watch on yet. “It’s like 9 am.” 

“Yeah, come on. Your wedding is in FOUR HOURS,” Hanna said. “I was at the hair stylist by now.” 

“Tommy wasn’t _awake_ right now,” Favs said. 

Hanna glared at the both of them. Jon took a step towards Favs and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“We’re going to go take showers,” Jon said, cautiously. Hanna reminded him of one of his cousins. She was five foot two and could take him down if necessary. 

He turned Favs towards the bedrooms, leading him with cautious steps as he heard a sudden burst of instructions coming from Lydia behind them. 

“You just got Tommy in so much trouble,” Jon said, very very quietly. 

Favs laughed. Jon didn’t. 

They separated at the guest bathroom. Favs flashed him a smile. “I get the feeling this is the last time we’ll see each other for a while. So, meet you at the end of the aisle?” 

“Well, duh,” Jon said. “Unless I take my car and flee to Mexico.” 

Favs frowned. 

“I’ll see you at the end of the aisle,” Jon waved him off. “Go shower.” 

“I know, I know, I smell,” he said. “You’re not the nicest fiancé.” 

Jon smiled, but it felt a little fake. “Not for much longer.” 

He turned into the bathroom and closed the door, his stomach lurching at the idea that by the night he would be ‘husband’. 

* 

He took a long shower, half to make sure he met whatever stringent cleaning measures that his apparent wedding planners had set and partially just to give himself time to think. Afterward, he stared in the mirror as he shaved, careful not to nick his skin. The silence was killing him, so he slid his phone out of his pocket to put on some music. 

There were texts from Tommy and Dan. Apparently they’d gotten there and Dan was with Favs. Tommy was assigned the task of minding Jon. He didn’t know if this was normal or just part of the clown show but he sighed and finished off his face, listening to a little bit of Sam Smith. 

He texted Tommy to tell him that he was ready and there was a knock on the bathroom door barely ten seconds later. He didn’t want to think about what Tommy had been doing while he was waiting. He walked out of the bathroom, back in his PJs, and was led to his bedroom. 

“Jesus, you took twice as long as Favs,” Tommy said. “He’s the diva. What is this marriage going to be like?”

Jon didn’t answer, as Tommy was joking and he wasn’t going to make this a game of him being morose. His bedroom, which was actually a good size for a second bedroom, felt stiflingly small. His suit was up and on a hanger off of his closet. He stared at it for a long moment. 

“You okay?” 

Jon looked over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Could you step outside? I mean, I love you like a brother but I wouldn’t get naked in front of … pretty much anyone.” 

Tommy nodded and walked outside. He stripped down and threw on a fresh pair of underwear. His hair was pretty ridiculous, what he was supposed to do with it was beyond him. He put on his pants, and his undershirt. As he slipped his button down white shirt on he felt his heartbeat increase. The anxiety from earlier was building again, something in his stomach churning. 

He looked in the mirror and saw this guy that wasn’t quite him. Or was him, just not a real version of himself. Even with his stupid hair and the extra weight he still felt like he was carrying even with working out. He felt nauseated and his palms were sweating. He was going to puke, or pass out. 

“TOMMY,” he called out. 

The door opened. “Miss me already?” 

He looked at Tommy, and whatever was on his face seemed to alert Tommy to the lack of time for jokes. Tommy pushed him to the chair in the corner and sat him down. 

“Okay, this is normal, breathe.” 

“THIS IS NOT NORMAL,” he snapped, his breaths coming in short pants. “What the hell about this is NORMAL?”

Tommy looked at him and blinked. “Uh… I mean…” 

“YES. EXACTLY. You can’t even lie to me!” 

Holding up one finger, Tommy walked out of the room. He was gone for what felt like an eternity, possibly it was something closer to a minute or two but it didn’t matter. He gripped the arms of the chair. He tried deep breaths. He tried counting back down from 100. He got to 87 when the door opened again, Tommy walked in and Hanna was behind him. 

“Hey,” Hanna said. 

“Great, let’s all gather to see the panic attack,” Jon seethed. “Your husband is useless.” 

Hanna looked at Tommy and jerked her head towards the door. He was beginning to like her more and more by the moment. Tommy ran like he was a freed rat. Jerk. 

She walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, a few feet away. “Yeah. He can be freaking useless at times.” 

“HEY!” Tommy responded through the door.

“Don’t eavesdrop, jerk!” Hanna called back. 

It went quiet after that. 

“What am I doing, Hanna?” he said. “This is crazy. Favs and I aren’t supposed to get married. Favs is straight. Like super straight. He is essentially a fucking Kennedy in the looks department and we’re doing this for a sham. He is going to have a divorce under his belt, to a guy. To _me_. I’m fucking his whole life up. 

“This is crazy. This is ridiculously crazy. Genuinely crazy. Like, Trump winning the election levels of crazy.” 

Hanna nodded a couple times. “Okay. You don’t think this is a good idea. So, let’s go.” 

“WHAT?” 

“You don’t have to do this, Jon. It’s better for you if you do. Favs _wants_ to. He made this choice on his own, but you don’t seem to want to, so don’t. We’ll figure this whole thing out in the long run. Let’s walk out. Get in the car and head to Vegas.” 

He swallowed. “We can’t do that.” 

“Why not?” Hanna asked, her voice even and measured and man, Tommy married up. 

He rubbed at his face. “It’s not that I _don’t_ want to do this.” 

“You do want to do this?” she asked and then paused a little and looked back over her shoulder. “Lovett. Do you … _want_ to do this?” 

He covered both of his eyes and watched as the stars formed in the black of his closed eyes. “Does it matter?” 

“Yeah, yeah it does.” 

“I can’t tell him,” he said, lowering his hands. “And you can’t tell Tommy. You can’t. I know there is some sort of marital bond thing and that it’s a holy union for most people but you can’t. You can’t.” 

Hanna bit at her lower lip, hummed something low and put her hands out to touch his knees. 

“Okay. First of all, if you believe that I tell Tommy everything… well. Believe that. And tell him so every day. But secondly… We can still leave, Lovett. It might not be the best idea for you to do this,” Hanna said, but held her hand up when he opened his mouth to protest again. “I know, I know. You won’t. You get this might blow up in your face?” 

“You’re talkdowns are lacking,” he said with a rueful laugh. 

She rolled her eyes. “You are part of my tribe, you get honesty, not baby gloves.” 

“This is a Jewish thing?” he smiled. 

“Naw,” she shook her head. “The Crooked Media Tribe. Though I guess two tribes. Double your pleasure.” 

He couldn’t help himself, he started to laugh. A low chuckle that eased into a true laugh. He was amped up and probably a bit hysterical but Hanna started laughing too, and it felt good to just relax a little. He was breathing again, his chest not nearly as constricted. He put all of his energy into just being there in that moment. 

A knock at the door and it was Tommy. He looked like he was walking in the Hurt Locker. “Sounds better in here?” 

“Yep,” Hanna said and walked by him to go on her tippy toes and kiss his nose. “Sometimes you’re useless, but I love you.” 

He appreciated the way his friend’s face flushed. He was just a little jealous, but happy for Tommy. He’d seen a lot of his ups and downs. He liked the happy part of Tommy’s life. 

He took a quick look in the mirror. His face was much less red and he actually recognized the person. 

“I guess I gotta get dressed or something.” 

“First?” Tommy lifted his hand to show a water bottle and what looked like a cookie in one of his hands. “Lydia said we had to get you hydrated and fed. It would cut down the anxiety.” 

Jon looked at him dubiously. “A cookie is going to cut down my anxiety? Where’s the booze? Have we no class?” 

Tommy handed him the cookie and the water bottle. “The cookie is apparently nutritional and vegan. Lots of protein.” 

Jon made a face. 

“And also, this,” Tommy pulled out a flask from the inside of his pocket. 

“Wow, not useless at all,” he said. He took a bite of the cookie, which wasn’t horrible, and a shot of what turned out to be vodka which was pretty horrible but gave him a little Dutch courage. 

*

Elijah, one of the film guys, came in towards the end of him getting dressed to take photos. They were really playing up the reality of it. Though there was no one outside of their work there. He felt the weight of his parents not being there, and he wondered if Favs felt the same way. His parents meant a lot to Jon but to Favs… well. If he felt like Jon did it would be a conflict. 

He was then made to stay in his room at all costs for a full forty-five minutes, with only one dispensation for him to go to the bathroom. He might have taken a second shot, but it had loosened him up enough that he was fairly sure he wouldn’t panic on the trip down the aisle. 

Curiosity got the better of him, but when he looked around the corner, he was taken out by Howli, who just raised an eyebrow at him. Dan also picked them well. He walked back to his room and waited. 

When he was finally allowed outside of his own freaking room in his own freaking house, he was led past the kitchen where something smelled amazing and towards the backdoor. Leo and Pundit sat by the back door with the Leo in one of the most awful looking fake dog tuxes ever, Pundit wearing what appeared to be a tutu and a white shirt and matching black and white leashes. 

“Sorry guys, your dignity is apparently moot,” he said and bent a little to rub at their faces. 

He saw Dan come out of the back and Tommy and Dan each took a leash. Tommy saluted him. “See you at the front.” 

Lydia smiled at him and nodded for him to walk outside. 

He felt a little ridiculous, walking out to his backyard and letting out an audible gasp. He’d lived there long enough to know what it looked like. But this was not the backyard from this morning. It was beyond that. There was a freaking white sheet that led down a path lined with chairs. There were flower balls, bright blue amaryllis, which made him smile. 

And at the end, there was a Chuppah. A simple one, nothing as ornate as Hanna and Tommy had had, but still. Four posts, a clean white cloth and a Tallis that hung over the edge. He looked over at Hanna, who was giving him a small smile. This had to be her. There was no way anyone else would have. He forced his mouth closed, no doubt looking like a complete freak. 

The music started up and suddenly he felt someone at his side. 

He’d figured he would walk down the aisle by himself, but he turned to see Favs smiling at him. Favs leaned down to him. “I didn’t want to walk down by myself.” 

“They have a Chuppah?” 

“Yeah, is that okay? I thought you might like it,” Favs said. “And it makes it more authentic, right?” 

He felt a clap on his shoulder. Typically, it was Lydia. She squeezed his shoulder hard; she was doing the same to Favs. “Boys. Aisle.” 

She moved down ahead of them and took her set. 

“Come on, Lovett. Let’s get married.” 

*

Their honeymoon consisted of going out to dinner at their favorite Italian place, where Favs insisted on telling the guy they had just gotten married because he was kind of a jerk. It got them amazing service, a free bottle of nice red wine and a cannoli for dessert, so in the end Jon wasn’t too pissed. Afterwards they took a Lyft home, curled up on the couch and watched more West Wing. They were getting close to the third season and it wasn’t like they both weren’t able to quote most of it, but it was comfortable and something they agreed on. 

Jon was unsurprised when he looked over to find Favs fast asleep. Leo had curled up on Jon’s lap, like he was wont to do as of late and Jon rubbed at his ear. “Your dad is totally lame. I’ll be honest, this is not how I saw my wedding night panning out.” 

Leo looked up at him, panted and licked Jon’s lips. So the only kiss he got on his wedding night was from a dog. That was by no means sad and pathetic, that was just the icing on the cake. 

Which there was still left in the fridge, actually. He picked Leo up and placed him down on the floor and walked into the kitchen to get himself and Favs a piece. Maybe he’d wake up for long enough for them to talk if it involved buttercream and raspberry. 

* 

It turned out being married changed very little in their life. They had established a routine in the month they’d lived together so that they were already used to everything at home. Work didn’t really change, except for the occasional ribbing which, frankly, didn’t surprise them one bit. He would be more shocked had they not teased them. 

It did ease their health insurance up quite a lot. Jon was actually shocked when he got his first paycheck post marriage and saw the increase in number. When he’d approached Favs about it Favs explained he just switched him to his plan and it had made his plan go up by forty bucks a month. FORTY BUCKS. That was a tenth of what he had been paying for himself per paycheck. 

He put the extra cash aside, figuring that he’d pay for a kickass vacation for the two of them in the future. He started looking up places to go in his free time and by about the third paycheck he’d figured out that he was not only planning a vacation for himself and his pretend husband but he was also only looking at romantic places. 

He had to get a fucking grip. He started thinking about it as a divorce ‘celebration’ vacation. That put it into sharp contrast and the shopping he let himself do felt … well. Gross. And a lot less fun. 

Either way, months passed and it was just like a roommate that he had a certificate binding him to. (They had it framed and put on the wall in their living room, he was pretty sure to Favs it was a total joke.) Which he guessed was what most marriages were like. Except, ideally he would get sex. He definitely missed the sex part. His hand was fun for a while but not for too long.

The fact that Favs had gotten more touchy feely, or at least it felt as if he did to Jon’s sex starved mind, was **not helpful**. They were both homebodies, so they watched TV, binging shows on Netflix after they had finished West Wing, or a movie if they were feeling daring. When they were on the the couch Favs slowly got closer and closer, his body leaning ever so slightly until he was basically head on Jon’s shoulder as soon as the TV was on. 

Or on the occasional times they hung out with the Pfieffers and the Vietors, he would sit closer than was necessary, put his arm around Jon’s back. He wasn’t sure anyone else noticed until once when Hanna flat out asked Jon about it. He had just shrugged and said that proximity bred comfort. She had raised an eyebrow and looked at him like he was selling her a load of shit. He probably was. 

Except the other option felt less possible. Favs couldn’t feel something for Jon, it wasn’t possible. He knew that. Either way it was an incredible mind fuck and he was going to talk to Favs about it… eventually. 

*

Eventually led to months of them living the same life. A life filled with couple things, but ending at the door to Lovett’s bedroom, with a goodnight. Occasionally a hug that lingered. But nothing that could be defined as anything more than super good friends who lived together. And, yeah, were married. Whatever. 

Another night in front of the TV made Jon feel a little itchy. 

Favs had his head on Jon’s shoulder, so he figured he was asleep. It wasn’t that rare of an occurrence. The fact that he’d stayed awake to make it through almost two whole hours of a movie was something that Jon would commend him for the next day. Jon liked the way it felt, the warm weight of an exhausted Favs on his shoulder. 

He knew that wasn’t a good thing. 

He took a sip of his Hard Cider, enjoying the taste and the fact that he got this moment at all. He’d been nursing the cider long enough that it was far from cold, but whatever. He didn’t need to get drunk to feel that weird buzzed feeling. That, apparently, was what Favs was for. 

When he felt a weird vibration on his shoulder he wondered if this was Favs version of snoring, even though he hadn’t done it before. He looked down, still only seeing the top of his head. He debated grabbing his phone and taking a video but just as his hand went to grab his phone Favs head tilted up towards him. 

He wasn’t sleeping, but his eyes were half lidded. He was humming. Jon looked at Favs beer on the table. It was still half full and unless he had genuinely missed something, that was his first beer. He looked at Favs and Favs made a low noise. 

“You okay?” 

Favs leaned up and kissed him. 

He kissed him. Not a chaste public kiss, not a kiss like at their wedding which was goofy, but an honest to god kiss. The kind that Jon hadn’t had in long enough that his lips had almost forgotten what it felt like. His toes honest to goodness curled underneath him. He was feeling… everything.

It took him a minute to realize that what was going on was insane. He wouldn’t use the word ‘wrong’, as it wasn’t. It wasn’t _wrong_. It was just a bad choice. 

He pulled back. “Favs?” 

Favs shook his head, put his frankly massive hand on the back of Jon’s neck and pulled him back down. “Don’t.” 

There was the moment where he was meant to pull back. Say no. Fight his impulse to just enjoy it. The moment passed slowly, but Jon ignored it. He let himself melt into the kiss. It had been one of those things that was a long time coming if he thought about it. The looks, the stares, god, the small touches. 

He let his lips mold to Favs, inhaling the smell of the dumb cheap beer that Favs had bought even though he could totally afford better stuff. He put his own hand to cup Favs’s neck. They were making out like teenagers, on a couch, their two dogs letting out weird curious noises at their feet, and shopgirl meeting her NY152. 

Favs was already stretched out and stretched a little further to push Jon down on the couch. Jon moved his legs up, feeling silly and giddy and frankly like maybe HE was the one to fall asleep during the movie. He’d seen ‘You’ve Got Mail’ enough that he might actually be able to dream the movie if needed. 

But kissing Favs was not exactly something he could dream up in experience. He was a lot less handsy than Jon had imagined the few times he’d allowed himself. However, this did leave the few times that his hands brushed up against Jon’s sides to feel like possibly he was in porn. He let out a noise that got caught up in Fav’s mouth. 

There were few times in his life he regretted the loose fit of his sleep pants, but the fact that Favs now had to feel the entirety of his dick against his leg was pretty embarrassing. He was an adult, but he was literal seconds from rutting against his damn leg like a dog. 

He pushed Favs up with fragments of strength he was not aware of. “Favs, stop.” 

Favs backed up. “Oh shit, do you not…?” 

Even in the darkness he could see the sudden white pallor of his face. Jon swallowed, and directly looked at his highly tented pants. “Are you kidding me here, Favreau? You think I don’t want this?” 

“Then what?” Favs said, relaxing notably. “Are you okay? Is it your back?”

“I’m thirty six, you’re OLDER than me,” Jon snapped. “I mean. No. Favs. **I want this**. But you… you’re straight. You’re _straight_.”

Favs leaned down and hovered over his lips. “Well, sexuality can be a spectrum, Lovett.” 

“Fuck me,” Jon muttered, just as Favs pushed back down and kissed him again. Hungrier than before, bodies pressed tightly together. Which gave Jon the front row view or feel, so to speak, as to how interested Favs was. Jesus, he was interested. Did Gd make him in a freaking super soldier mode? 

A strange surge of bravery hit him and Jon pushed his hand up Favs shirt, fuck he was doing this with freaking merch on, that was going to be an adventure for the upcoming days. He brushed his fingers across his stomach, tracing the lines of his six pack. Favs pulled his stomach up like a pissed off cat and let out a low laugh.

“Ticklish? How did I not know this?” Jon asked, suddenly pleased with the idea. 

Favs flushed bright red. “Ticklish is not exactly the word I’d go for at the moment. Just. Haven’t gone off in my pants in a good twenty years. So maybe you might want to take it easy with that.” 

The image alone was enough to make Jon thwack his head against the arm of the couch. He grunted low. 

“You okay?” Favs asked. 

“Bed, Favreau. You and I are going to bed,” he said. “I want to be naked and you insisted on leather, which is just gross on so many levels.” 

Favs kissed him lightly. “You are good at sexy talk.” 

He’d show him sexy talk. He was king of freaking sexy talk and he would be all about that. Again, in a bed. He pushed him up and got up. He walked with as much dignity as he could with a raging boner and two excited dogs suddenly at his feet. He was relieved to hear Favs behind him. 

They headed towards the back rooms and by silent agreement they went towards Favs’s. Honestly, a king-sized bed beat everything. Especially when it came to Favs and his freakishly long legs. They barely got into the room, shutting the fairly upset dogs out, when Favs pushed him back against the wall and kissed him again. 

He put his hands on either side of Jon’s head and leaned into him. It was … hotter than it should be. He let his tongue prod at Favs mouth. Fuck, he wasn’t going to let himself be embarrassed by this. He wasn’t going to ejaculate in his freaking pajamas less than ten feet from a damn bed. 

When they pulled back for breath he gauged the exact location of the bed and the next time they kissed he pushed off the wall and started to direct them there. It wasn’t graceful by any means but he wasn’t going for grace, he was going for a bed and hopefully naked time. He was ready for that. 

They made it to the bed, Favreau hitting it and falling backwards. As soon as he hit the bed, Jon was making use of the time. He took off his pants and debated about his shirt for a full ten seconds before grabbing it and taking it off. The closest to a six pack he got was in the kitchen, but he wasn’t bad in the body department. 

Favs had made it as far as taking off his ratty shirt and throwing it to the side, so Jon grabbed at his pants, revelling in the moment that Favs bucked his hips up to help him. It was a truly freaking nice buck. He was more than ready to enjoy that. 

He was running on such a level of adrenaline that the intrusive thoughts of how bad of an idea this was were kept mostly at bay. When he saw Favs’s dick, uncut and thick, his brain seized up and maybe he panicked a little. He’d never seen his dick. He’d been married to the guy for nearly seven months and he’d never seen his dick. Somehow that triggered a little panic attack followed by the desire to laugh. He was smart enough not to laugh at a man’s dick, but it was a near miss. 

“I’m feeling a little exposed here,” Favs said and Jon blinked. He’d been staring and he still had his underwear on. 

He slipped them off. Favs’s eyes went big and it might’ve stroked his ego a bit. He knew what he had. He climbed on to the bed and a little anxiously kissed him, hoping if nothing else it would quiet his mind down a bit. 

There was the feeling of skin against skin, not unpleasant but kind of unfamiliar after the drought that had been pre-marriage and then during the marriage. He gave himself a minute to re-acclimatize to the warmth, but that just gave Favs a chance to back up and start kissing him further and further down.

When he reached Jon’s belly button, he gave a little nip directly underneath it. Jon bucked his legs up, and his dick hit Favs’s chin _hard_. Hilarity aside, it was like his whole body had moved its nerve endings downwards, and he could feel himself go tight. 

Favs didn’t laugh, even though Jon was sure the noise he let out was enough to earn a laugh track. Instead he smirked and put his tongue out to lick a stripe up Jon’s shaft. Which was, to be fair, the closest to porn Jon had seen live. The fact that it was Favs, freaking Jon “drunk dancing at Tommy’s wedding, eating their wedding cake at four in the morning laughing, unable to stay up past ten most nights” Favreau, somehow made it more intense. 

He put his hand on Fav’s shoulder because words were not something he could work with right now and pushed him off. “Wait, wait. Too much.” 

Favs tilted his head. “Oh come on, you don’t want a little more?” 

“Fu-fuck you, Favreau.”

There was a pause. “We could try that.” 

“Do not say that,” Jon said, his lungs sucking in so hard he was afraid he might forget how to breathe. “Don’t… don’t say that.” 

Favs slid up again, hand palming Jon’s dick and looking serious. “I mean, I’ve never… but we could try.” 

“Not right now,” Jon said, voice stuttering over the words. He slipped his hand down to move Favs’s hand. He forced himself to pause it, for a second, before he moved his hand over to Favs’s dick, holding it in his hand and thinking of all the things he would do if he didn’t know his own limits. He took a second to lick his palm and bring it back. 

Favs made a noise even before his hand made contact. “Fuck, Lovett.” 

He held Favs’s dick for a second, just to get the weight of it and then gently pulled up and down. He hadn’t been with an uncircumcised guy in so long that he had to remind himself of the things that were second nature to him a decade before. He pulled the foreskin gently back a little and played with the tip. Put his finger on the tip to spread the precum. There was enough to help him along, plus it made Favs make a noise and tilt his forehead against Jon’s shoulder. Wins all around, really. 

A few minutes of adventuring around the tip of Favs’ dick got him an official, “Stop, hold on.” and though it went against his urge to _keep getting that noise out of Favs_ , he did. No means no and stop means stop. Favs took long deep breaths and lifted his head off of Jon’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. 

“Can we… together?” 

A brief but painfully vivid image of he and Favs in a comfortable sixty-nine flickered through his head, before he realized that Favs had literally no experience with men, as far as he knew. That would be asking a lot, even with the false bravado of a few minutes before. 

He tried not to let his voice crack like a 15 year old, “Yeah. Do you have lube? It works better with lube.” 

The look that passed over Favs’s face was one that let him know he was right in feeling like the ‘fuck’ comment was pure bravado. 

“Hand jobs, Favs,” he said and Favs eyes snapped back to him. 

“Back of the drawer on my side of the bed.” 

He grabbed the small bottle, laughing that it was basically exactly where he kept his. Maybe it was an all guys thing. He put some on his hand and then gave it to Favs. He let it warm on his hand for a long few moments before sliding it onto Favs’ dick. A half a beat later Favs joined him. 

Jacking Favs off while he was being jacked off shouldn’t be that complicated. He’d done it with a nice share of guys, but it was like his brain couldn’t shut down. It was repeating the name ‘ _Favreau_ ’ over and over until the word hardly made sense in his head. 

Just before he actually came he tried to do something to warn Favs, but it wasn’t like he was functionally able to speak and his first impulse of slightly squeezing Favs dick did exactly the opposite of what he hoped. Soon they were both covered in a mix of each other’s cum and Favs was staring down at their dicks with his mouth slightly open in shock. 

“Hold on,” Jon said, easing back out of the bed with his stomach caved inwards in hopes of catching whatever he could. He grabbed his shirt off the floor and wiped at himself uselessly before he walked into Jon’s en suite bathroom. He’d never actually been in it before but he saw a big wooden door and flipped it open to find towels. He grabbed two.

He wet one down and walked back into the room. Favs looked mostly frozen, though he’d moved so he was lying flat on his back and staring at the ceiling. He walked over to Favs and gently went to wipe his stomach, but Favs grabbed the towel and did it himself. He tried to not take it as a personal affront, using the dry towel to take some of the last of the cum off of his stomach. He folded it around and handed the towel to Favs. 

“To dry off.” 

Favs made a face. “With your cum?” 

“No, that’s on the OTHER side,” Jon said, and he noted his voice was kind of condescending so he changed it. “I mean. I used one side? I flipped it over. You won’t even be touching it.” 

The ridiculousness of having to comfort Favs about touching his cum when he had had it all over his stomach hit him and he had to keep a laugh to himself.

He laid down and finally allowed himself the comfort of full post coital bliss. He hadn’t been that thankful for a handjob since he was 17 and he got his first official one. 

He looked over at Favs, figuring he might appreciate the random memory of an almost hand job, but he was staring at the ceiling in what appeared to be terror. Jon bit his tongue for a moment, tried to give him time to process but that wasn’t exactly his modus operandi. 

“Are you okay?” 

Favs jerked his head and looked at him like maybe he’d forgotten there was someone else in his room. “Wha? Yeah.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Jon considered telling the story of his first blow job, just to see if he could get a laugh out of him but instead he just started to say the first thing in his mind. 

“That was really … good. Like nice job. First time? A plus. No need to grade on a curve, you earned it.” 

Favs looked back at the ceiling. “Thanks.” 

“We should um, talk about it?” 

“No,” Favs said, firmly. “Not… now.” 

Jon felt like his stomach was literally in his throat, so he just nodded, sat up and walked out of the room. All in one fail swoop, not bothering to put on any more clothing, or to grab the ones discarded. Because apparently dignity wasn’t something he was supposed to have. 

*

Tommy let out a laugh that echoed in the recording studio. Jon didn’t find it funny in the least. This would actually be the opposite of funny, especially when he took into consideration just exactly what this could mean for them all. He fidgeted with the small red ball he kept on his desk for when he needed to distract himself and debated whether he could throw it at Tommy’s head. 

“Laugh it up, Vietor,” Jon said. “I’m just talking about the end of our entire company as we fucking know it.”

Tommy shrugged. “You’ve been in Hollywood for way too fucking long.” 

“We had sex,” Jon repeated, just as low as the last time. Even with the walls it just didn’t feel protected enough. “This isn’t good.” 

“Look, I’m not a marriage expert but sex is actually kind of important in most marriages.” 

Jon tilted his head. “Fuck you, you know this isn’t like you and Hanna, dumb ass.” 

“Yeah, cause Hanna and I actually use words and communicate like adults.” 

“Oh, burn,” Jon said. “I can remember Favs’s birthday… when’s Hanna’s again?” 

Tommy rolled his eyes. “One time, Jon. I forgot it once. And see? You’re married.” 

“For a green card, which … fuck. We haven’t even applied for yet. We are just faking a marriage for faking purposes and now we fucked and everything is so FUCKED.” 

“Wow, impressive multitude of use of one word. You sure you write professionally?” Tommy sniped. 

“Why did I even think I could talk to you about this?” 

Tommy rubbed at his neck. “Fine. Did you guys talk afterward?” 

“I guess. I mean, I talked. He was pretty quiet and then after a minute or so of me rambling I got up and went back to my bed.” 

Tommy blinked. “You did what?” 

“Well, he wasn’t _talking_. Like, completely monosyllabic. And then I was just talking and talking and it wasn’t getting us anywhere,” Jon said. “It felt like the walk of shame. Granted it was a door down and my dog was whining at me. So possibly worse and a little more degrading than necessary.

“Then, this morning he basically treated it like it didn’t happen at all. Which felt fucking fantastic, let me tell you.” 

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, you think maybe he was feeling weird that you _left him in bed_?” 

“What was I supposed to do? Keep making one sided conversation? Cause I can do that. But I think breaking our friend’s brain is not an optimal thing.” 

“Maybe he was _processing_ , Lovett,” Tommy said, and Jon resented being talked to like a first grader but the point was fair enough. 

“Okay, so he was _processing_ ,” Jon said. “Then he decided not to talk to me about it, so it sounded like his processing didn’t go in my favor.” 

Tommy shook his head. “Look, Favs isn’t the kind of guy to just ignore things. Neither are you. Both of you are like the freaking dogs with those ropes. You will fight for it for hours and _not stop_. So forgive me if I am highly doubtful of this being something that has been decided.” 

“Can I say a quick fuck you?” Jon snapped back. 

“Say whatever you want, dude, but also say something to Favreau. I am not a licensed therapist, nor am I even really that good at the marriage bit, but I think if you two just talk like adults, like _husbands_ , maybe some of this shit will shake out.” 

Jon huffed. “Sure. Use logic against me.” 

Tommy got up and headed towards the door, hesitating at the handle. “And if you two really do fuck up this company? I think I might actually hurt you.” 

“I didn’t want this!” Jon said. “I voted against this!” 

Tommy faked a sneeze. “Oh, sorry, allergic to your bullshit.” 

He hated when Tommy tried to be funny. It rarely worked out. 

* 

The day went by at a snail’s pace, especially when he decided he wasn’t going to talk to Favs about this at work. It wasn’t worth it to either of them to get worked up at work and it was a personal matter, even if he had told Tommy. 

He tried to relax, but even during the recording he was twitchy and awkward, none of his jokes hitting, instead of falling flat or coming out as just mean. Tommy nudged him under the table half a dozen times. Favs acted the same as he had that morning, he smiled and laughed. He was completely normal, almost to a degree of too normal but Jon was sure he was projecting. 

He really had said this was a bad idea. All those months ago. He’d stood in their studio and said that this was a bad bad choice and he was not going to go through with it. Except he had, he’d let himself get wrapped up in the play that was ‘The Happily Married Couple’. He got used to the fact that Favs was annoying in the morning and that he sometimes fell asleep mid-episode of shows he was watching. 

He learned to love the time they got to walk the dogs together, the short bursts of jogs that Favs would insist on. He learned to make extra eggs in the morning if he was making breakfast. He learned a routine and then he fucked it all up by letting himself feel something for Favs and even worse by _acting_ on the feelings. 

This had always been a way to save him, he knew that. He knew that Favs would have done this for Tommy or Dan had they needed it. It had always been a farce, and he was letting himself become the fool. 

At least he didn’t have to tape a ‘Lovett or Leave It’. The title felt a little too on the nose. 

When, finally, it hit the time that people started to trickle out of the office slow but steady, Jon went to knock on the studio’s door. It was just a little ajar and so when he hit it it opened wide to show Tommy and Favs seated around the desk. 

“Well, this is familiar,” he mused, feeling his stomach tie up in knots. 

Favs face went from dead serious to the fakest of his smiles. The one he used when he was asked the rare completely dumb question on the road. He looked anxious, something that even after all their years of friendship, he doubted he would have noticed had it not been the last months. His eyes weren’t crinkled and he had a set to his jaw that was not good. 

“Hey Lovett,” Tommy said. “I’m going to step out.” 

“And by step out I really hope you mean step out and keep walking,” Favs said, and it was pretty much exactly what he would have said. They had been around each other too long. 

As soon as the door closed behind the Tommy, Jon took a seat across from Favs. His heart was in his throat and he was pretty sure that the level of sweat coming off of him should be a sign of concern. 

“Divorce by committee?” he joked, but his voice was about as fake as Favs’ smile. 

Favs face went blank. “What?” 

“Just… having flashbacks,” Jon said, waving his hands. 

Favs shook his head. “We’re um… we’re going to have to go to Canada. For two weeks.” 

On the list of things that he’d expected this was close to, if not absolutely, dead last. He looked at Favs and waited for another shoe to drop but Favs was staring him down. 

“Are we doing some shows there? I’ll admit it might take some reading, but I got Trudeau’s basics down. And with the whole Canadian lessons you’ve been giving me…” 

“Lovett, we’re going to file for your visa. We have to do a few short interviews… we’ll probably have to visit some of my family… but it looks like we might have to put Canada to the front of our list,” he said. “Pence is really pushing some issues and it’s concerning.” 

Jon’s heart fell from his throat to the bottom of his stomach like lead, making him feel slightly nauseated. Oh yeah. The reason they got married. The fake, stupid, sham of a marriage they were living in. Mike Pence fucking with his life and not even buying him dinner first. 

“Okay,” Jon said. 

Favs looked at his computer. “We’re leaving the day after tomorrow. You have your passport, right?” 

“Yes, Jon. I have my freaking passport. I’m 36 years old, not 7.” 

“I wasn’t concerned with your age, just we haven’t traveled much,” Favs said. “Well, outside of the country.” 

Jon raised an eyebrow at Favs. “Surprisingly, I’ve had a life without you at times.”

He was expecting some retort, witty or not, but instead Favs just made a face at the screen. “We’re going through LAX, I used some of our crazy freaking miles to go First Class.” 

“You spoil me.” 

“The flight is at 8 am.” 

“I take that back.” 

Favs let out a low laugh, not quite happy but it was better than the fake smile and the fake feelings. “Vietor is taking care of the mutts.” 

“Don’t talk about the children like that, they’re in the building,” Jon said. “It’s obvious why they like me more.” 

“I think it’s because you give them more treats and let them sleep on your bed.” 

The word bed made Jon’s mouth go dry. “About that…” 

Favs bit at the corner of his lower lip. “We’re going to talk about that?” 

“I was in fact coming in to do so. Or at least ply you with food to do so.” 

Favs pinched his nose. “How about we go home and make that six cheese chicken thing from Blue Apron and drink some beers? We are going to have a lot of talking time coming up.” 

Something twisted in his chest. He’d been dreading it all day and now he had an escape and it felt like a knife to the chest. They were going to have to talk about it. But maybe Favs was right. A fight or worse, awkwardness, on a two week trip without a Vietor or Dan buffer would probably be not a good idea. He nodded. 

“Do you know how many bumpers we’re going to have to record tomorrow to make up for two weeks of us phoning in podcasts.” 

Favs groaned. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. You better start imagining all the things you’ll yell.” 

“I like to let them come naturally,” he said. “You know. Inspiration striking at the right moment.” 

Favs grabbed his keys off the table. “Wanna round up the kids and go?” 

“Yeah, that’ll be hard,” Jon said and he opened the door and called out. “Pundit, Leo, home!” 

They heard the familiar skitter of toes on the ground and the dogs almost knocked Lovett over in an attempt to jump on him at the same time. 

“You’re their favorite,” Favs said, but there was something there that sounded like he didn’t mind. 

‘ _You’re **my** favorite_ ,’ he thought, stupidly, but thankfully kept in his brain for once. 

*

It was quickly made apparent, as soon as they got home that night, that they were NOT TALKING ABOUT IT. He had figured at work it would be verboten, because Favs was professional like that, but they walked in the door and Favs had all but jumped into the role of the one talking over everything. They made dinner, they talked about the trip to Canada, they cleaned up after dinner. They popped in a movie. 

Jon got the message loud and clear. 

* 

Four AM two days later came much too fast for Jon’s liking. To distract him the night before Favs had sat on his bed as he threw shit in his bag for the next two weeks. He wasn’t exactly the best at packing in general, but two weeks was a long time for an out of country visit. He put together exactly two nice outfits because there was apparently a good chance he was meeting some extended Favreau family, and only a very few knew that this was a sham. 

He generally kept his ‘trip entertainment’ bag packed because they flew places often enough. He threw in his extra chargers and his laptop before bed and put in some pictures of him and Favs over the last few years in case he needed proof. (Favs told him he didn’t think he would but he figured in this case to over prepare.) 

* 

Canada, Jon decided five minutes into being there, was much colder than he thought it could be and people were much ruder than he expected. He’d been expecting the stereotype of polite Canada, but Favs informed him he was in Quebec _not_ Canada. Even though he knew what he was saying, he got annoyed with the semantics. 

“You know that Quebec is a province _in_ Canada, right? Cause I’ve only been studying Canadian history for a few months and I know that.” 

Favs rolled his eyes. “Listen, Quebec is much more French than Canadian. It’s just the way it is. It’s like going to New York for Southern hospitality.” 

“I’m just saying, you are a respected speech writer, use your words correctly,” Jon said. “Now, do you need a Canadian drivers license to rent a car? Do you HAVE a Canadian drivers license?” 

“I don’t know. My uncle is picking us up,” Favs said, distractedly poking at his cell phone. “He said he’d text me but I have my doubts.” 

“Wait, what?” Jon stopped in his tracks from where he’d been following Favs. 

Favs turned around and his eyebrows were down in assumedly confusion. “He’s 73, the guy texts maybe twice a year and that’s for Holiday wishes and usually one of my cousins is with him.” 

“Not _that_ ,” Jon said. “Your UNCLE is picking us up?” 

“Yeah, he insisted.” 

“Like, your genuine Uncle is picking us up to take us to a courthouse to prove we are homosexually married?” He said, enunciating every syllable in homosexually and married. 

Favs gave him a look. “I think it’s more polite to just call it married.” 

“Favreau, are you crazy?” Jon said, walking a bit closer to him to lower his voice. “The more people who know this is a sham…” 

“He doesn’t think it’s one,” Favs said, shrugging and looked down. “He’s here. Or about to be. Ideally. Come on.” 

Jon was halfway sure that his brain was about to explode in his skull. They’d agreed on telling their parents, it was the only logical thing to do when it came down to it. They would get phone calls. But he’d figured it would just be the core family, and they would know it was fake. The extended family wasn’t even in his equation. When Favs had said they’d have dinner, he’d assumed he’d be the business partner, not the actual partner. 

“Lovett? He’s here, let’s go,” Favs said, somehow almost at the door in the blink of Jon’s eye. 

He forced himself forward, walking with purpose as his legs could not match Favs even slowed down steps. Stupid long runner’s legs. He had some choice words for Favs, but he would have to keep them to himself until they got some time alone. 

Favs walked straight up to a big red van, which opened to reveal about four people, not including the driver. He let out a noise but it was swallowed by the voices of what Jon assumed to be family who all attacked him in a hug. They were speaking French, something Jon knew only from his time in high school and he realized quickly that was going to be no help. 

A younger girl, probably a cousin, turned towards Lovett and grinned. “Is this him?” 

Favs nodded and after being disentangled from his family he turned towards Jon. “Jon, these are my cousins Anna, Kayla and Nick, my Aunt Joanna and my Uncle Lucas is in the car.” 

“He’s cute,” one of the girls said. “Nice catch, Jonny.” 

“Kayla, seriously?” the boys said. “Sorry, my sister is perpetually 17 even when she’s nearing thir—“ 

Kayla put her hand over her brother’s mouth. 

The other sister, Anna came over and gave him a tight hug. He did his best not to flinch. “Welcome to the family!” 

“Thanks?” He smiled, but then asked. “Did you call him Jonny?” 

Anna smiled at him as she pulled back. “Jonny is the nice nickname we gave him, you know because we’re adults.” 

“What is the not nice nickname?” Jon asked, his interest piqued. 

Anna looked at Favs who was turning BRIGHT red. “Oh, that’ll be for another time.”

“You’re going to be my favorite cousin, aren’t you?” Jon said and she smiled. 

“Naturally.” 

They all stumbled into the car; Favs insisted on putting the bags in the back for Jon and Jon was pulled into the van. Inside, he was placed between Kayla and Anna. When Favs got back in the car it was evident he found this hilarious because Jon looked at him desperately and got no help at all, just a small smile and a twinkle in his eyes. 

The ride to the courthouse was filled with questions, so many they started to blend together. It was good he’d spent half of his life doing interviews and off the cuff speeches, lest he stumble up on things. 

By the time they got to the courthouse, he’d told them basically everything about his childhood, his friends back home, his parents, and a truncated version of how he and Favs had met, fallen in love and gotten married. He’d also been given a good heaping of guilt because of not having a ‘real’ wedding (if they only knew how true that was). Somehow they’d gotten him to promise to a second wedding, sometime in the future, with all of the family. 

They dropped the two of them off, going off to apparently a mall nearby to shop while they did some cursory filing and such, and Favs couldn’t contain how funny he found the whole thing. 

“You threw me to the dogs!” he said. “And not our cute ones, either.” 

Favs smiled. “Come on, they’re just being friendly.” 

“I told them we’d plan a second wedding, a genuine second wedding, Favs. We didn’t even plan our FIRST wedding.” 

Favs shrugged. “We can just have a huge party.” 

Jon boggled at Favs but Favs was too busy looking at a wall for him to actually notice that he was being stared down. Did he forget they weren’t married? That this was fake? Cause one hand job didn’t make him gay or bi or whatever. Plus they had gotten married for Jon to move to Canada if needed. 

Granted, he couldn’t even bring any of this up as he was in a freaking COURTHOUSE trying to convince people that he _was_ married. He was getting more and more confused and when, a moment later, Favs put his hand down and grabbed Jon’s, everything seemed to fuzz out harder. It was going to be a real weird trip, he could already tell. 

*

Two hours and what felt like sixteen lines, or queues apparently, later, they went before a magistrate, who advised them to be married _again_ on Canadian soil. He also said they would need to supply proof of relationship and that it would end with a temporary visa for Jon. 

Jon tried his best to focus on all of the information being thrown their way, but not only was it a metric tonne, he was also distracted by Favs’s sudden need for touch. It was an act, all for show, he knew that. But the increase in PDA was not only distracting but _nice_. That was not a good thing. 

If it wasn’t holding hands, he would slip a hand onto Jon’s forearm, or the base of Jon’s neck. It wasn’t like Favs wasn’t touchy feely but this was nothing short of possessive behavior. Jon should’ve resented it. He SHOULD’VE stopped it, but he didn’t. He let himself enjoy each and every moment of it. 

When they were finished, Jon called his family, who happily drove back. The sisters were bickering and Nick looked a little miserable but he figured if he’d been suddenly stuck back in with his family for a day he’d be miserable as well. When they insisted that the pair of them come to their house for dinner with a few friends, Favs politely reminded them that they had just flown and been at a stuffy courthouse all day. 

This bought them till the next afternoon, apparently, when his aunt decided she would put together a small gathering. Jon was sometimes a little oblivious, but he could see between the lines that ‘small’ was not a word that was going to be associated with any gathering with this family. 

He didn’t care, however, because at the moment it bought them a ride to the hotel they’d gotten. A nice hotel, which no doubt had a nice bath, which he was going to sink into with a nice glass of something alcoholic and relax in. He was beyond ready for the day to be over. 

* 

He should have known that it would be one room they were checking into, he knew that was the best thing for them. Any tracking of them would have to show them as the happy couple with one hotel room and a king sized bed. Of course he hadn’t _thought_ about the fact that one hotel room and a king sized bed was going to feel a little like a hotel room with a twin sized bed. 

The last time they’d shared a king sized bed… well. Things had happened. He didn’t look at Favs as he threw his stuff in the corner of the hotel room and informed him that if he wanted the bathroom he might want to use it as he was commandeering the bathtub. 

Favs seemed to be on the same train as he said he would just use it quickly and it was all Jon’s. Jon took the time he was alone in the room to freak the hell out, grab his pajamas out of his bag, freak out some more, and take his phone out of his bag to text Tommy. 

“ _ONE HOTEL ROOM. ONE HOTEL ROOM._ ” 

Tommy texted back. “ _Yeah, Lovett, you’re married._.” 

He sent back ten angry faced emojis, thought about sending more but just waited for a response. It didn’t even show the bubble that he might be getting a response so he had to just stand there. 

Favs came out in his PJs, and gave a shrug. “Don’t drown in the tub.” 

“I’m not THAT short,” he said, but as he walked into the bathroom he found that the bathtub was, in fact, that _large_. It was the kind of bathtub that he would joke was made for two if it were ANY other situation. He turned on the tub and checked his phone. Still no response from Tommy. The jerk. 

He flicked through the playlists he had, found the one he thought would be the most laid back and put it on. He left his phone on the side of the sink and put his wireless earbuds into his ears. The tub was maybe a quarter full, but he stripped, stepped in and sunk down into the hot water. 

It slowly went up and up, by the time it had gotten to his mid back he was beginning to remember who he was. By the time he turned off the water before it sloshed onto the floor, he was actually feeling relaxed enough that the concept of sharing a bed didn’t feel like too bad of an idea. Or, at very least, like less of a bad idea. He inhaled and exhaled, letting the flight and the anxiety seep out of him. 

He heard a knock at the door to the room, even through his headphones, and wondered what it could have been but ignored it. The water was beginning to cool, he had to soak up the last bits of the good energy. 

When it did cool, though, he started the drain and waited for it to empty. He got out and looked at is wrinkly finger tips and toes. He dried off slowly, got dressed lazily. He liked his PJs, one of the many advertisers had sent them to him and he had to admit he liked that perk. And of course, a Lovett shirt. 

He walked out of the room and instantly smelled something amazing. His interest piqued, he looked over to the table in the corner, where Favs was seated, drinking a beer and looking at his phone. 

“Whatcha got there?” 

Favs head jerked towards him. “Awesome, you’re done. Dinner got here. I ordered you prime rib. It looked good, and they had those rosemary potatoes you like. I got wine and beer… so your choice.” 

Under his breath Jon couldn’t help but sing song, “WINE AND BEER!” 

“What?” Favs asked. 

“Nothing,” Jon said, with a smile. “Why didn’t you start eating?”

“I was waiting for you,” Favs said. “But man. Canadian beer. I forgot, I don’t know how, but I forgot. I think I might order more later.” 

Jon crossed the room and made it to the table to find that there was a small ice bucket with a BOTTLE of red wine and five beers. “I think we’re good here. Unless we should talk about something.” 

“No interventions necessary,” Favs laughed. “I meant while we’re staying here.” 

“What happens in Canada…” Jon said a second before his brain connected what that could mean. 

Favs blushed but winked. “Something like that.” 

Jon’s blood supply suddenly drained down his body, his mouth agape and his skin feeling warmer than it should in a cold hotel room. He watched for a second as Favs wrapped his lips around the top of the bottle of beer and he realized that he was being played. Favs was fucking with him, and he was fully aware of just how much he was doing it. 

He popped the top off of one of the beers, curious to see if it tasted as good as Favs made it out to be. Plus he would save the wine for later. Beer made him feel like he was just relaxing with a friend. Wine would make it feel more like a date. He wasn’t sure what he wanted out of the night. Well, he knew what he _wanted_ but not what was _best_. 

“Want to eat?” Favs pointed at the food, which he had _almost_ forgotten about. 

Jon picked up a knife and fork and cut into the steak. It was like butter under his knife. He could get used to this hotel. 

Their dinner conversation was surprisingly devoid of innuendo, though he swore Favs was drinking his beer in a manner that could only be described as pornographic. They talked about Canada, about schedules and meetings. They avoided politics for once, which was nice. They also continued the tradition of avoiding talking about two nights before. 

His eyes drifted to the bed a few times. The singular damn bed. Granted it was still huge, but having slept in the King with Favs once before, even briefly, he knew that it wasn’t large enough. Favs finished a beer and started another, but once Jon finished his beer he went to a glass of wine. Wine felt like it might relax him more. 

It was good wine. Great, even. And as he thought, it made the dinner feel more like a date than the beer had. He sipped at it and thought about maybe bringing the whole date thing up. Except, well. If he said something about it and it was just Favs playing around, or if he spooked him… well. He was stuck in a hotel room with him. 

They finished dinner and Favs wondered aloud if they should get dessert. Jon groaned. 

“I don’t have your metabolism, Favreau,” he said. “So, no, I’m good.” 

“What could we do to work off some of those calories?” 

Jon, mid sip of wine, did a spit take. “Was that… did you just try and pick me up?” 

Favs ears were bright red, but his smile was playful. “Maybe.” 

“This can’t be a joke,” Jon said, warningly.

“Trust me, it is not,” Favs said, serious for the first time all night. 

He stood up carefully, eyed Favs warily but got closer to him in his chair. Favs legs were spread apart, which left him ample space to get as close as he wanted. He leaned in till they were barely an inch apart. Waiting for some sign from Favs for them to stop. None came. 

For two days he’d been thinking about kissing him. For two days he thought that he’d already had that and it was over. So when he kissed him again, he did it slowly, enjoying the moment. 

Favs pushed up into the kiss, which felt nice and gave Jon the confirmation he apparently needed. He was exhausted, really and truly, but he was also warm and relaxed and if he ever turned down sex with Jon Favreau he was sure that he would check himself into the nearest hospital. 

He pulled back and Favs was smiling at him. “Hey, Lovett. We got a king-sized bed.” 

“Well, you’re the one who’s still seated,” Jon cocked his head to one side. 

In response, Favs stood up, almost knocking Jon directly over and lifted his hands to remove his shirt. “And you are still fully clothed.” 

“Oh, this is a game?” he said, pulling his shirt off. Even if he was a little hesitant because fucking Favreau six pack, but he wasn’t one to back down. He also kicked off his sleep pants and was thankful he was wearing a nice pair of Tommy Johns. 

So was Favs, apparently, as he shed his pants. Jon walked over to the bed and crawled on to what he knew would be his side. He lay there with his hands behind his head.

“And I win,” Favs said, and before Jon could call him on being a cheeseball, he climbed onto the bed and pressed their lips together. Jon put a hand up into Favs’s hair and it was too soft to be real. He swore the guy was some days a Disney Prince. 

He moaned, embarrassingly, and pulled back for one last effort. “You sure about this?” 

“Lovett, I would tell you if I wasn’t. Are you sure?” 

He scoffed. “Sex with the hot guy who happens to be married to me? Well, gee. I’ll have to consider that one.” 

“You called me hot,” Favs preened. 

“I hate you,” Jon said, and pulled him down for another kiss. “I hate you and you are a jackass.” 

Favs bit at Jon’s jaw. “You hate me?” 

“Yes, totally.” 

Favs licked the space where he bit and then worked his way down, moving painfully slow and alternating between slight nips and licking. He reached Jon’s nipples and tugged at it slightly, which honestly didn’t do much for him but when he released and blew some air on it, his whole body felt the spark. That was something entirely new to him. 

He opened his mouth to say something to that effect to Favs but Favs was doing it to the other nipple and it was like words were falling from his mouth. Just not the words he was working on in his brain. 

“Fuck, holy fuck, holy sh…” he panted. What the hell? It’d taken him twenty years of sex to figure this out? 

He looked down just in time to see that Favs was leaning his head on his stomach, shaking slightly. He couldn’t hear the laughter but he felt it with the shaking of his forehead. 

“Funny now, not long term, Favreau, I’ve got pl…” Jon started, but was cut off by a hand landing on his dick. A hand at the _base_ of his dick, with Favs’s mouth painfully close. Jon’s brain went just a little bit fuzzy. “ _Fuck_.”

The last shreds of ration in his brain told him to stop this where it was. Favreau had literally given his first hand job to another person less than a week ago. He had at least had practice at that, this was a whole other ball game. Once you put a dick in your mouth, well. The bi-curiosity line was crossed and bi-confirmed was almost a surety. 

Then again, it was Jon Favreau and his mouth and he had spent many many years around that mouth and though he could tell himself that he didn’t harbor a real crush on him for the entire time, he had eyes. That mouth was made for sucking dick. It was just a fact. Every wide smile, every laugh, every time he’d been dragged to baseball and forced to watch Favs eat a hot dog. 

He put his hand on the top of Favs head and Favs backed up. 

“What?” he said, eyes wide and obviously anxious. 

“You know we can work towards this?” 

Favs nodded but gave him a look. “Let me try one thing.” 

Before his brain could recognize that he was moving he saw Favs stick his tongue out and lick upwards from the base of Jon’s dick to the tip. He cautiously put the tip in his mouth and gave a single tentative suck. 

Jon let out a noise so embarrassing he was afraid he would go off onto Favs’s face, a fear he hadn’t actually had since his early twenties. Favs popped his mouth off of the dick with a grin. 

“It’s better than lube, right?” 

“Ri-right,” Jon stuttered out. 

Favs came back up the bed and kissed Jon. Jon bite his tongue to avoid the use of words like, ‘go back’ or even ‘I love you’. Instead he licked his palm, slow and steady, and looked Favs in the eye. 

This was dangerous territory but he was entering it of his own free will.

*

When they were finished, Jon’s head on Favs’s chest, both of them looking up at the ceiling Favs made a noise. Jon was waiting for a shoe to fall, for him to say that it was a mistake or that they shouldn’t do it again. 

“You’re a liar,” Favs said, and Jon had NOT expected that. 

“Wha?” 

“You don’t hate me at all.” 

Jon laughed, a surprised bark that echoed in the room. “Well, you’re still a jackass so I only half lied.” 

“You knew that when you married me,” Favs yawned. 

Jon joined his yawn, stretched his legs out and sighed. “And I’m going to do it again in the next few days.” 

“At least this time we won’t have to handle our coworkers mooning over it.” 

“I wish the pups could be there. Those outfits were fucking golden.” 

“I think Leo ate his as a sign of protest,” Favs said. 

He smiled. “Pundit peed on hers.” 

“They really are siblings,” Favs voice had slowed down, obviously falling asleep or fighting it. 

Jon got up and slipped his underwear on. Favs had brought a towel to bed before Jon had taken a shower, the over planning jerk, but it didn’t matter. It meant the bed was clean. He grabbed the platter that held the remnants of the food and the few empty bottles of beer and put them outside the door for pick up. 

He turned off all the lights except the one in the bathroom. He looked at the bed to find that Favs was completely conked out, face up near the center of the bed. He crawled in and under the blankets. He would put his sleep pants on at very least, but he was fucking exhausted. He closed his eyes and he was already asleep. 

*

The casual barbecue was a freaking ambush and Jon was frankly embarrassed he didn’t see it. He’d dressed casually, which was basically one of a million black shirts, a pair of jeans and a cap because his hair had been doing nothing that morning. They walked into Favs’ Uncle’s backyard and found … well. A sea of white and quite obviously wedding decorations. 

Favs, who at least seemed as shocked as he was, face went into a weird smile. “What’s this?” 

“Your wedding party!” Anna called and suddenly people came streaming in from the sides of the house and from behind them. There had to, easily, be fifty people in this backyard. It was overwhelming and weird and dear lord, was the Favreau family bred to be pretty? Were they literally a French-Canadian Kennedy family? 

He tried his best to make his smile genuine, but Kayla came up and took off his hat and tutted. “Come on, you’re with me.” 

“What?” Jon asked, and she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the house. He looked desperately at Favs. “Wait, wait, what?” 

Favs gave him a look of confusion as Anna dragged him another direction. He lifted his free hand and waved goodbye towards him. 

He was dragged through what was an extremely nice house, one that he wanted to actually look at but had no chance to. They made it to a room in the back that was obviously the master suite. Or this house was made for the Kardashians. Either way, it was huge and a nice color of red. He wondered if he could talk Favs into a color change.

His brain was obviously not functioning at high capacity. 

“Okay, so we have a button down shirt and tie, your jeans will have to do,” Kayla said. “But this hair. What do you usually do with it?” 

Jon shrugged. “Uh. Let it dry and hope for the best?” 

“You are like the worst gay guy ever,” Kayla said and then turned a little red. “Sorry, that was stereotyping, wasn’t it? I mean, we all knew Jon was a little gay. Like, I loved most of his girlfriends. But metrosexual was not Jon. Did you know he talked me through shopping for EVERY SINGLE formal dance? Like I would send him pictures and he’d send notes back.” 

Jon couldn’t help the giggle that escaped his lips. “You’re kidding.” 

“NO! I swear. He did it for Annie and then when I got to my first one I PANICKED and she told me that he was the best. He claimed it was because he had to go to nice events all the time,” she shrugged. “Plus he always was willing to watch movies with us during family stuff. He’s my favorite cousin. I mean, having a cousin who is an actor is pretty cool…” 

While she talked, Kayla started to futz with his hair. He wanted to tell her to give it up, his mom had been fighting the good fight for 35 years, but she seemed to be pretty determined. 

If nothing else, the longer he stayed quiet and let her do what she wanted the more that she talked about a younger Favs. Granted he must have been sixteen or older when she was born, she seemed to be full of good memories of him. Most of them funny as hell. She filled him with ammunition he could give to Tommy. It was pretty brilliant. 

After dousing his hair with water, towel drying it and then going off to find some of her brother’s styling goo, he was allowed to look in the mirror and find that he looked, well. Better. He knew he needed a haircut but there was never time. 

She made him put on the button up shirt, which was a little too big for him, and the tie which was a thin black one that looked better than he would imagine. At some point his brain started to put things together. 

“Wait, we aren’t getting remarried here,” he said. “We have to do paperwork and … stuff.” 

Eloquent. 

Kayla laughed. “No, but we’re going to pretend you did and this is your party. A shirt and cap were not going to cut it. Plus we wanted you and Styles to match.” 

Jon choked on his spit. “Did you just call him Styles?” 

“Yeah,” she grinned. “It started off as Smiles, when I was little. He had such a big smile… but then Anna started with Styles when he started helping her get the right outfits.” 

“His nickname is a GUY FROM ONE DIRECTION.” 

She smirked. “Hey, don’t get too uppity, I could call _you_ Hairy and then you could match.” 

He lifted his hands in defeat. “Please, gd no.” 

A knock at the door and Nick popped his head in. “Come on, Kayla. We’d like to see the other groom sometime before dinner.” 

Kayla rolled her eyes and said some pretty foul words under her breath but finally smiled at him. “You look wonderful, let’s go find you a husband.” 

They took four long strides out the door, well, for him, Kayla had her cousin’s height genes, and were stopped by Nick. “Wait.” 

“Now you’re being indecisive,” Jon said. “We were told to hurry up.” 

Nick held up one finger. “Anna?”

“He ready?” 

“ _Finally_.” 

Jon gave an indignant huff, but then Nick put a hand on his face, which … _rude_. He put his hand up to grab at it but he was being moved forward. 

“Is this some freaky Canadian thing? Do I have to kill a moose?” 

He heard Favs laughing and the hand lowered. They were in the middle of the foyer and he was staring at Favs. He’d seen Favs dressed in literal tux and tails, he’d seen him in his ratty old jeans and his rattier older sweat pants. 

He was wearing a white button up shirt perfectly fitted for him (of course) and the same tie that he was wearing. His hair was kind of shiny, so definitely gelled and his face was mid laugh. He looked the best that Jon had ever seen him and that was saying something. 

“Hey,” he smiled. “Clean up nice, Favs.” 

“You too,” Favs said, his face still in the smile for a laugh. 

Behind him he heard Kayla let out a noise that he was pretty sure was making the dogs whine back in LA. On impulse he leaned up and gave him a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. Thankfully Favs kissed back. 

*

Having a party with a group of people who know perfectly well that you aren’t actually getting married and going to a party where everyone thinks you _are_ newlyweds and happy and in love are two completely different feelings. The first was awkward, no doubt, but fun. The Crooked crew was a group of people he felt like were half family to him. They knew him and they loved him even with his idiosyncrasies. He’d built a relationship with them. 

The barbeque was only awkward in its lack of awkwardness. People came up to Favs and him and hugged them both with sheer love. They congratulated Favs on his choice in partners, then they jokingly consoled Jon on his unfortunate decision to marry Favs. They kissed his cheeks, they smiled broadly. Favs held his hand the whole time. 

It felt like a party back home, his parents inviting all the relatives because it was some benign holiday, such as Tu Bishvat or possibly for the end of Passover. Filling their yard with people and Jon just got to hang out and enjoy the feeling of love that surrounded him. 

At one point he looked at Favs and Favs smiled at him, squeezed his hand and mouthed, ‘You okay?’ 

He wasn’t sure exactly how to say ‘not at all and completely’ at the same time so he just gave him a sarcastic roll of his eyes and nodded. He kissed him on the base of his chin as that was what he could reach the easiest. 

Two hours later they went back to the hotel, citing jet lag (even though it was only 5 in Los Angeles) and his cousins were kind enough to at least pretend they believed them. It had been one of those days that he had been counting in the last few months. The weird feeling of days he had to commit to memory, because who knew when it would keep going. 

 

*

They spent the rest of the trip to Canada being bounced between offices and the US embassy. On the off occasion they weren’t in the market for long queues and stressed out workers, they were with the other Favreaus. They actually took Jon out to a pond and he didn’t particularly hate the nature, even though it was cold and his jacket was not sufficient. Favs rubbed his hands for him at one point, declaring them to be blue. Jon was betting Kayla and Anna would pass out at some point from the noises they made. 

At night they would either watch TV until they fell asleep or make out like teenagers. Whether they got off or not depended on Favs. Jon was not pushing it at all. He wasn’t sure what was going on but he knew it wasn’t something that was at his pace. He gave Favs the reins. 

Three days before they left they signed a piece of paper in front of a magistrate that said that they were, in fact, married and in love and definitely not married to get Jon citizenship, only hey, that would be a cool bonus. They raised their hands and swore everything. It was surreal and Jon only sweated a little; he wasn’t a happy liar. 

The next day they waited for a half an hour to get a certified piece of paper that it was ‘pending’ and it could take a few weeks or months before they got the final decision. Jon should have felt bad for thinking, ‘Take as long as you want’ but that night Favs tried to give his first blowjob, and though it was categorically not the best, it took any guilt away from Jon for hoping for more time. 

Their last day in Canada was another barbecue, apparently it was a thing with Favs’s uncle. He didn’t mind, mostly because it was literally a tenth of the amount of people and he had grown rather fond of the Favs crew. When they asked if he would come to the family Christmas in Massachusetts this year he had smiled and nodded before he realized that he couldn’t make that promise, but couldn’t explain why. 

They didn’t have sex that night, nor did Jon want to. Instead they went to sleep early and caught the obnoxiously early flight again. Favs got him a liter of Diet Coke and he was mostly human on the flight back. Mostly. 

* 

He’d thought, feared more like it, that when they got home things would go back to normal. Their normal. The before, when he slept in his own bed and they didn’t kiss unless in public version of normal. But the first night they got home Jon had been led to bed by Favs, where they promptly curled up and fell asleep, the jet lag genuinely real this time. 

He’d woken up a few times to feel Favs curl his hand on Jon’s stomach, or when Favs had gotten up to go to the bathroom and came back to more or less curl up against him. 

That would have been the moment he should have known he was fully fucked, not the fun type, but it felt so good that he let himself ignore the truth behind it. That it was not what he needed, just what he really wanted. 

*

“You need to see a therapist,” Tommy said, his sandwich half eaten in front of him but a serious look on his face. 

Jon, who was picking at the food in front of him but not particularly hungry, jerked his head up. “What?” 

“You aren’t… you… lately,” he said. “It’s like you’re playing yourself. It’s weird.” 

It wasn’t like Jon had never been to a therapist. He’d first gone to one at age 15, when his parents thought he needed medication for undiagnosed ADD, which he didn’t have. What he did receive was some sound advice that allowed him to say that he was gay for the first time not just to himself. 

He and the therapist, a short older Jewish woman who went to their synagogue, talked off and on for years. In sessions, sometimes, but when he went to college he found he was in a different place emotionally and so when he came back he just visited her. She’d passed away when he was twenty-five. He’d found a few therapists back east, but nothing ever felt right. 

He hadn’t bothered when he moved to Los Angeles. 

“What do you mean, playing myself? Of course I’m playing myself, I _am_ myself,” he said, but by the look on Tommy’s face he was going to call him on his bullshit. 

“Here are a few names,” Tommy said. “I didn’t want to set you up with mine, as it would be weird and make me uncomfortable. These guys are all recommended by him though. The third one down specializes in LGBT patients, though I don’t know if that really matters to you.” 

Jon looked at the list and blinked. It kind of did matter to him, actually. He swiped the paper and put it in his back pocket. It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he wanted anyone to see and he knew that Tommy would get that. 

“Also, Hanna mandates you and Favreau come to dinner on the 19th of next month,” he said, taking a bite of his sandwich and a swig of water. 

“That is oddly specific, it’s not your birthday or your anniversary…” 

Tommy tilted his head. “No, but it is the day you moved in with Favs and apparently that is the day she wants to celebrate with you as you guys should celebrate your wedding anniversary _alone_.” 

Jon had a rebuttal for that, like a reminder of what sham meant, but there was something stuck in his throat and even after downing his soda he couldn’t get it to unlodge. Tommy looked at him, tilted his head a little more. Sometimes Tommy got a look, one with creepy precision, that would mean that he was reading him. 

“You okay, Lovett?” 

He nodded, throat still stuck.

“Call the therapist,” Tommy said and it was like his stomach got punched but he nodded again. 

*

He didn’t tell Favs, just a few Fridays later he ended up having a ‘dentist appointment’ during lunch. If Favs had been paying attention he would have remembered that he’d gone less than a month ago for his annual cleaning but thankfully he wasn’t. 

He went to Dr. Manheim, who insisted being called Jamie. A tall, lanky guy who looked a little like his friend Justin, which freaked him out for all of two minutes before he got the words out and suddenly he opened up about everything. Jamie listened for the first half hour and then talked for a few minutes, listened again, and then asked a few questions. 

By the end of it, he had talked Jon through enough that things seemed to click into place in a weirdly simple process. He hadn’t told him what to do, he’d given tips and tricks but told him to go with his gut on most things. He _had_ strongly suggested to him that he needed to talk about it before the next time they talked. 

Jon nodded, made an appointment for a month from then, as that was what his own schedule would allow, and walked out feeling better and worse at the same time. 

*

It turned out that the conversation he’d had was exactly what he had needed to have for so long. He figured it was worth it when he cried at the end, and maybe a little in the middle and the beginning. It was one of those things that had built up and built up and then it just burst, he hated that.

They were coming up on on a year. Well, they had two weeks until their moving anniversary and a six weeks till their wedding anniversary. It was like a weird bell had rung in his head and he couldn’t unring it. A year _meant_ something. 

Add into the fact that they were more or less sleeping together every night and lived their life as if this ‘sham’ was anything but… he had to move on from it. It wasn’t something he could do anymore. He couldn’t lie in bed at night, listening to Favs breathe and feel happy but sad at the same time anymore. 

So the next day, thankfully a Saturday, he woke up and he walked out of their bedroom, Pundit and Leo curled up around each other meaning they’d already taken their run, and braced himself. He had thought maybe making the conversation in the evening or night might work better, had almost started it the night before but things had dissolved quickly into making out on the couch. Morning would have to work because he couldn’t stand another minute of building up what could happen. 

Favs was seated on his stool, sipping at his coffee and watching something on his phone. It had Trump’s voice, so at least neither of them would be able to get it up for a while. Favs must have heard him coming somehow, as he turned and gave him a rather huge smile. 

“Morning.” 

Jon swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Hey.” 

“You starfished on the bed again, like the second I rolled off of it,” Favs said. “You know, we could fit a king in your room.” 

That was not an ideal way to start this conversation, but he nodded like he was thinking about it. He grabbed a mug of coffee, one that they’d been given while they were on tour. It read ‘I’m BLUE in a Red state’ with a picture of a sad looking donkey on the bottom who was wearing fighting gloves. They had some weird ass fans, but he had liked that mug from minute one. 

He waited until he’d filled the mug and sat down beside Favs before he inhaled deeply. 

“Can we talk?” 

Favs gave him a look. “Okay, that’s a genuinely frightening way to start a conversation.”

If only Favs knew to what degree that the fear was running on his side. He chuckled though, hoping to at very least dispel some of the tension. Favs seemed to relax a little bit but he could still see the weird muscled that popped up in Favs’s forehead when he was angry or anxious. 

“Um, so… what are we doing?” 

Favs looked at him, blinked and the muscle twitched again. “We’re drinking coffee, then we have lunch with some guys from the office. I was thinking we’d go over to that mattress place over near the office. It’s Saturday, do we need an itinerary?” 

At his side, Jon’s fist curled and he could feel his fingers dig into his palm. “Favs… Jon. You know that I’m talking about. You… We are almost at a year of marriage. It’s a fake marriage, I get that. But… We sleep together. We travel together. We have a plan to visit your family for next Christmas in Canada. What _is this_?” 

“It’s us,” Favs visibly swallowed. 

“What do you mean?” 

Favs eyebrows furrowed. “It’s _us_ , I don’t know. We are what we are. Why would we need a definition? We’re just doing what we’re doing.” 

Even with all the preparations of obsessing about conversations that could possibly be, he had to admit that that actually hit him straight in the gut. He felt himself tear up a little, and looked away for a second to give himself a chance breathe.

“I think I need a definition,” he said, once he got himself under control. He waited a second and then shook his head. “I know I need a definition. Are you bisexual?” 

“What?” Favs practically snapped. “No. I’m not.” 

He was trying his best to handle this correctly. He tried to remember all the things his therapist had said. How to start the sentences with “I need” or “I feel”, avoid any accusations. 

“I feel like this is something more, Favs,” he said. “I’ve been feeling that for a while now. We act like a couple, we wear rings, we live together.” 

“Yeah, to keep up the image. We’re trying to get you citizenship, Lovett,” Favs said. 

Jon felt the coffee in his stomach start to churn ominously. He couldn’t throw up _just_ coffee, could he? “Is that all that this has been for you? A ruse?” 

“That’s what we started with,” Favs said, a weird note of accusation in his tone. “We should be getting the visa soon, that is the big note. And I’m your sponsor. You live with me and it helps you move forward if needed.” 

“You don’t need to fuck your sponsor to get a visa,” he snapped, knowing instantly that was the wrong thing to said. Favs’ eyes went wide. “Sorry, wait. That isn’t what I was trying to say. I was trying to say… I think we have been more than that. More than just keeping up some sort of dance to get Canada to believe we’re together.” 

Favs sipped at his coffee, his eyes refusing to turn towards him. Jon was almost desperate enough to wave his damn hand in front of Favs stupid face. “Look, Lovett. I don’t know what you think this has been for the last few months…” 

“A year,” Jon said. “It’s been a _year_ , Favreau.” 

“This has been for you and Canada not… anything else.” 

Jon felt the tears well up again but as Favs still wasn’t looking at him he didn’t bother to look away. The tears were more frustration than anything else, but it didn’t matter. “Favs, I think I’m in love with you.” 

There, he finally fucking said it. Out loud, not while they were in the middle of sex. Not while Favs slept beside him. Not while they were out in public, brushing it off as a game. Favs head jerked to looking at him, mouth open. 

He got up off the stool and looked like a caged animal. “I… I need a minute.” 

Then he walked out. Out of the kitchen, down the hallway and into the bedroom, as Jon watched with a lump in his throat. 

That hadn’t gone the way he thought it would. That hadn’t even gone the way he feared. His stomach was churning, harder and harder and he stood up and walked to the sink, just in time to prove to himself that he could, in fact puke up just coffee and it was twice as unpleasant as he had imagined. 

Pundit and Leo came running into him, both dogs whining. Leo nudged at him like he was trying to get him to move away from the sink, like maybe the sink was the reason he was puking. He turned the water on and took a sip, swished it around and spit it out. 

He’d told him that he loved him, bared his heart, and it was pretty damn evident that he wasn’t into it. His mind raced so fast that it felt a little like an anxiety attack, and hell it might actually be one. But he knew one thing for sure. 

He had to get out of the house. Faster rather than slower. He needed out. He felt it bubbling under his skin. He walked straight to the guest room, to his room, and opened it up. He had clothes in a pile on the floor. Probably dirty, but he didn’t care, he changed out of his PJs and threw on those clothes. He had a bag packed for an upcoming trip, it was already opened and he grabbed some extra clothing and shoved it in the top. He wasn’t even paying attention to what he grabbed, so he hoped some of it was decent enough. He emptied his underwear drawer into it though, as he knew that was what he needed. 

He hadn’t had time the night before to unpack his work bag, which had his laptop and his iPad with their chargers. That was enough for now. He would have to come back, unfortunately, to get the rest, but maybe he would slip out while Favs was recording with Dan on Thursday. That would at least leave him some of his dignity. Or … not really but he would fool himself with it. 

He walked out of his room and saw the two dogs seated outside of his door. His heart ached. He knew that what was probably best would be to leave Pundit with Leo for now, to let them sleep and play together. They had had each other for a year. But he also knew that he couldn’t be alone. Just as he grabbed Pundit’s leash the door to Favs room opened. 

Favs stopped in his tracks. 

“What are you doing?” 

Jon straightened his back. “What does it look like I’m doing?” 

“You can’t just leave.” 

“Actually,” he said, “I can.” 

He leaned down and put Pundit’s leash on. Pundit, not knowing what was going on, started to wag her tail. She jumped and licked at his face. If only she knew. 

He felt Favs get a little closer. “You’re taking Pundit?” 

“Yes, _my_ dog. I’m taking my dog.” 

“You aren’t supposed to leave,” Favs said, his voice sounding confused. “We’re supposed to stay together. It works for your visa…” 

Jon honestly felt like he could throw up again, if he hadn’t already gotten out everything he’d had in his system. “Honestly? Right now, I could care less what the visa people think.” 

He had been avoiding looking at Favs as much as possible, thought that if he didn’t he would have some extra fortification. Except he slipped and saw an unidentifiable look, maybe anger, maybe confusion, maybe even sadness. It made him hesitate for a second, but only a second. 

“I don’t think I should stay,” Jon said. “I’m sorry. I know you went through a lot for me, and I know it was hard on you. But this isn’t healthy for me and I can’t take back what I said, I don’t want to. I’m not going to lie anymore.” 

He hitched his work backpack over his shoulder and walked towards the garage as simply as possible. It wasn’t until he reached the door and Leo started to jump at him, like he was forgetting him on this awesome adventure his sister got to go on that he had to look back. Favs still stood back in the hallway. 

“Could you…?” he asked, with a look to Leo. Favs half jogged to grab the dog and hold him up. Leo, who was not having it, struggled towards Jon. He put his hand out to ruffle the dog’s head and was attacked with licks. “Bye, buddy.” 

Just before the garage door closed he swore he heard his name, but he didn’t do anything beyond get into his car, setting his stuff in the backseat and securing Pundit in her dog seat. 

He was proud of how far he got before he started to cry. Almost two miles. He hadn’t thought he’d make it to the end of the driveway. 

* 

Jon knew if he called Tommy that he would be more than willing to take Pundit and him in, but the last thing he wanted was questions. He was tired. Actually, tired wasn’t the word for it, he was exhausted. Emotionally and physically, even if he had basically just woken up before the fight. Plus, he was pretty sure that Favs would call Tommy and the last thing he needed was to hear even half the conversation. 

The main problem was Pundit. He knew few hotels took dogs. He’d gone to the nearest Petco so many times to buy dog food last minute that he walked in with half intention of buying a cheap bowl and a small bag of food when one of the guys who worked there stopped him. 

“Hey, Pundit, how’s it going? Where’s your brother?” He rubbed at Pundit’s ears and she licked at him happily. 

“We’re on our own,” Jon said, aware that he sounded like he’d been crying. The guy, who’s shirt helpfully read ‘Ben’, gave him a look over. He knew he’d been caught. “Uh… do you know any pet friendly hotels nearby?” 

Ben blinked and tilted his head but didn’t say a thing. “You know, we have space for her in the pet hotel, if you … um. Need it.” 

Again, the idea of putting leaving her made him anxious. But when he thought about it it would probably be pretty cruel to put her in a small hotel room with no place to run, no brother or backyard, and having to eat out of a cheap bowl. He gnawed at his lower lip and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Yeah, yeah. That could…” he trailed off, Ben took her leash and they both walked back towards the little pet hotel in the back corner. He saw a group of dogs happily playing. Pundit’s tail started to wag. 

They got to the front desk and Ben smiled at the guy behind it. “Hey Chance, you got room for the sweetest goldendoodle?” 

Chance looked at his computer, typed in one thing and smiled. “Yes, we do. How many nights?” 

He blinked. “Two.” 

“Perfection. Here is a list of extras, little T-R-E-A-T-S and such.” 

He looked at the list and checked almost all of them. He was going to be a terrible parent, any guilt and he was sure to spoil them. He even had checked a room that had a TV in it. 

“Could you not put anything political on?” he asked, feeling a little ridiculous. 

Chance gave him a small smile. “Sir, we usually just play movies with dogs in them.” 

“Oh, okay…” 

He grabbed his wallet and handed over his credit card. They took Pundit back and she barely looked back. He told himself it only hurt a little bit, but honestly he wanted to take her back with him. He walked out of the store without dog food or a dog. It was a freaking banner day

* 

He checked into a hotel from the Travelocity ‘Find Me a Room Tonight’ function. He didn’t know why he went for a four star room, when in all reality he didn’t care where he was staying. He had just been glad they’d let him in the room at noon, as he’d spent an hour in a diner staring at a plate of food, downing Diet Coke, and looking at his phone. 

Favs must have told either Dan or Tommy, because he was getting texts at a rapid speed. 

He saw the messages pop up and would read the small part that would show at the top of the screen, but he left them unread in his inbox. Not ready. He was not ready. He looked at world news, but that depressed him on multiple levels. He checked out his Facebook page but there were messages from Anna about their visit to Canada for Christmas. 

His whole life was Favs saturated, and he couldn’t see a way out of it. The hotel had a smart TV and so he checked into his Netflix account and put on the Good Place at random. He’d heard about it through a few different people at work, but Favs always voted no as he had a thing against Ted Danson that Jon would never get. He loved Ted Danson, Cheers reruns had been his childhood. 

It was a weird show from moment one, but he liked the guy who played Chidi and that girl from Frozen was pretty funny, so he just kept it going. The windows were shut and the bed was oversized and stuffed, which ended in him taking a nap at some point. The only reason he realized it was that he blinked and the TV was asking if he wanted to keep going and the clock on the table in his view said it was near 6 pm where it had just said 3. 

He forced himself to sit up and rubbed at his eyes. For a second he wondered why he was in a freaking hotel when he lived … then it hit him and he turned himself over. His phone started to ring, even though he had it on Do Not Disturb. He checked it to find that it was Tommy. He’d forgotten if the person called three times in under three minutes it would automatically ring. 

He had to bite the bullet, he guessed, so he hit send. “Hello?” 

“Holy fucking shit Lovett,” he snapped. “Are you fucking KIDDING ME?” 

He had to hold the phone away from his ears and he still felt the phone vibrate with every word that Tommy screamed. When it quieted, he brought it back to his ear. “What?” 

“We’ve been looking for you for the whole damn day,” Tommy said, thankfully at a lower decibel. “What the hell?” 

“I…” he had no idea where he was supposed to go with that sentence or what Tommy knew. “I needed a break.” 

“So you took the dog to the dog hotel and then what? Disappeared?” 

Jon shook his head. “What the hell, how do you know where Pundit is?”

“The guy couldn’t get ahold of you, he needed to know what brand of food that she usually took as she wasn’t eating the stuff they gave her. Favs dropped off a bag of hers and one of her toys.” 

Jon swallowed. “They don’t take dogs at hotels.” 

“And why are you at a hotel?” 

He found his feeling of indignation growing by the moment. “Because I’m an adult who makes money and I can afford a damn hotel room. I got a room, I am watching TV and frankly, why do you care? I am 36 not 13. I didn’t run away from home with a rucksack and my allowance. I made a choice and I left.” 

Tommy was silent for a few beats. “He’s freaking out, Lovett. Like, legitimately freaking out. He has gone around the city for most of the day.” 

“Well, he can go home and fuck himself,” Jon snapped, then stopped and forced himself to take a breath. “Text him that I’m fine and leave it at that.” 

“What hotel are you at?” 

Jon almost hung up. “You aren’t telling him where I’m at, Vietor.” 

“No, even though I think _you_ should. But I’m coming over.” 

“Tommy,” he sighed. “I don’t want to…”

Tommy stopped him. “I’ll bring dinner. I want to hear this from you. I don’t think I’m getting the whole story. Plus you shouldn’t be alone in your moping.” 

“I’m at the Kimpton Hotel Palomar,” he gave in, mostly because he wanted food. “Room 301. Bring Diet Coke.” 

At least it got a laugh out of Tommy. “Okay, will do. I’ll bring you a six pack. Maybe two. I need to text Favs and Hanna. She’s been almost sick all day. She thought you were running away.” 

“Your wife likes me better than you.” 

“It’s a cross I bear,” Tommy said. “Now don’t move, I’ll be there in … thirty.” 

He hit end on the call and hit the button to watch the next episode of the Good Place. Granted he was pretty sure he’d missed an episode or two, but he didn’t care. He figured he’d catch up somehow. 

* 

Forty five minutes later there was a knock at his door. He felt grimy and gross and probably should have taken a shower rather than watch two episodes of the Good Place, but he wasn’t really trying to impress Tommy. He opened the door and was instantly handed a paper sack. He looked in it to find a six pack of bottles and a six pack of the small cans of Diet Coke. 

“You can come in,” he said, opening the door a little wider. 

“You look like shit,” Tommy said, once he was safely inside and putting another bag on top of the small table in the corner. Jon almost said he could leave now, but he produced what looked like an actually cold Diet Coke from the bag so he just let it go. 

There was a small fridge under the TV, and he put his bounty into it. “It’s been a long day.” 

“Yeah, about that,” Tommy said, taking a seat in one of the chairs while he brought out two tin foil wrapped packages and some chips. “Do you know what looking around the entire city of Los Angeles in like? Because it’s kind of a big city.” 

“If we’re being technical here, Favreau could have pinged my phone in the Family function,” Jon said. He hadn’t thought about it until he was midway through the second episode and had made himself invisible after that, but that wasn’t until something like 1:30 this afternoon. 

Tommy looked up from what looked like a sandwich he was unwrapping. “Are you fucking kidding me here, Lovett?” 

“Nope, I was one app away from him being able to find me.” 

“Well, I might actually hurt him later for that,” Tommy said, and pointed at the other seat. “I got you pastrami on rye.” 

Jon took the seat. “Stereotype?” 

“No, I’ve just been taking your order for the better part of two years,” Tommy said. “So what’s going on?” 

Jon slowly opened his sandwich. “What exactly did Favs tell you?” 

Tommy took a bite and washed it down with a bottle of water. “He said that you had a fight. That you were pissed, that he was pissed. But that you had just left before you could talk and that you took the dog.” 

“I told him I love him,” Jon said, ripping off that band-aid. 

Tommy blinked at him. “You told him you _loved_ him?” 

“Yeah,” Jon laughed. “I did. Remember when we slept together that one time?” 

Tommy nodded. 

“That wasn’t a one time thing. We continued. We got to Canada and he made the decision that we would keep going. I thought maybe it would just be Canada, but we got home and it kept going. It’s been almost non-stop since then. And I thought… _stupidly_ , that that meant something.” 

Tommy blinked at him. He opened his mouth seemingly to say something but then closed his mouth. He opened his mouth again, but closed it again instead. Finally, he shook his head and widened his eyes. “Lovett, that’s been _months_.” 

“Don’t I know it.” 

“And you … you think you love him?” 

Jon looked at his sandwich. He had been hungry when Tommy walked in, but the food looked unappetizing and gross. “There is no thinking. I know I do. Lucky me, right?” 

“Well, fuck me.” 

“Actually, already tried that with a co worker. Zero out of ten, would not recommend.” 

Tommy sat back in his seat, stared at his food and appeared to process for a while. With the knowledge that he would be starving later, Jon forced himself to eat. It was good food, he knew that, he recognized the deli that he’d gotten it from, but it might as well be gruel. He chewed and swallowed, drank some soda, waited. The time crawled by for a few minutes. 

“And he just… what? Stumbled over the facts? What did he do?” 

“He told me he wasn’t bi, chalked the whole thing up to this being for my citizenship and convenient, and then walked out.” 

Tommy frowned. “That doesn’t sound like him.” 

“And yet…” 

Tommy’s phone started to buzz on the table. Jon could easily see Favs face on the screen. He backed away from it, like proximity would hurt him. Tommy picked it up, even when Jon shook his head vehemently.

“You fucker,” Tommy answered the phone. 

Though he couldn’t make out any of it, he heard the hum of Favs voice. He was trying to explain it, he figured. He had to be. Tell him Jon sprung it on him, which he kind of did, tell him he was just telling the truth, which he probably was. 

“No, Jon. Not the point,” Tommy said, and Jon could see the red around Tommy’s pale hairline and on the tips of his ears. “You made me think that he had run out on you and you were lying. Of course he left. I would have left. I would have hit you in the nuts first.” 

More humming tone of his voice, in which Jon heard his name a few times, only distinguishable by the fact that his voice seemed to raise when he said it. Jon turned his head towards the TV, tried to focus on the paused faces of Chidi and Jason. 

Tommy went on to have a rather heated discussion with Favs for a few minutes until he hung up. “You’re staying with us.” 

Jon’s head jerked towards him. “What?” 

“You can’t stay at a hotel indefinitely, Jon,” Tommy said. “Plus, Hanna is freaking out. She’s going to go nuts when she hears what he did.” 

Jon’s skin prickled. He couldn’t even tell him not to say anything. It was pointless. Hanna was one hundred percent in on the game, and he loved her. Plus she had the best guilt that he’d seen. She could maybe be on an even level with his mom. Maybe _slightly_ less, but his mom had forty years more practice than she did. 

“Not tonight,” Jon said. “I just can’t handle it tonight.” 

Tommy frowned but nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow.” 

“Okay.” 

They spent the rest of the dinner in silence, then Tommy spent a while watching the Good Place with him. (Apparently he and Hanna had binged it. He told him to just wait till season 2. He wasn’t that many episodes off.) He left early when Jon started to fall asleep on the bed, but not before he nudged him hard and told him that he was expected at their house for lunch. 

* 

The next morning he woke up earlier than the day before. His body didn’t like that no one was near him, didn’t like that his dog wasn’t giving him kisses. He really didn’t like that the pillows weren’t his own. He put his hand out and rubbed the large space that in his mind was Favs spot. 

He forced himself off the bed and knelt down to the mini fridge. He seriously owed Tommy a kidney for the blessed caffeine that awaited him. He drank one of the small cans and opened a bottle. 

He ordered room service, a bowl of oatmeal and a bowl of fruit. He looked at the clock and realized that it wasn’t even 7 in the morning. Tommy wasn’t the kind to sleep in, but he knew Hanna well enough to know she wasn’t up at that time and the dog hotel wouldn’t open for another two hours either way. 

He tried watching more TV but nothing felt right to watch. He opened his computer instead and checked the Slack, which was empty. He checked his email, also empty. He knew there were messages on his phone, but he had no strength to check them. Instead he opened a file in Google Docs and he started to write. 

It was the first time in forever he’d sat down with no actual idea of where it was going to go. He started writing prose, not a script or an article. Instead it was just a story that he felt like he needed to write. By the time he finished, it was nearly noon, which was check out, he was famished and he’d downed all of the bottles of Diet Coke but still had all but one of the cans. 

A part of him thought of sending it to Favs, just to see if he could see the parts of the story that were him being more honest than he could be in real life but he knew that was not what he needed to do. Rather, he closed his computer, got dressed and left the hotel room. 

He was a little too thankful that Pundit all but pounced on him when she came out. She’d been given a fresh wash and blow dry, even though she was supposed to stay an extra day. They handed him her favorite toy, a large ‘bone’ made of the same stuff the Kong was made of that supposedly tasted like Peanut Butter, and he got into his car. 

He didn’t even get a chance to knock on the door before Hanna swung it open and grabbed him in a tight hug. “I’ll punch him in the dick, if you want me to.” 

“Hi Hanna, how are you?” 

“I’m not joking,” she pulled back. Lucca and Pundit sniffed each other for a moment, but went running off into the back. “My aunt taught me some Krav Maga.” 

Over her shoulder Tommy had wide eyes. He laughed, and it felt good, except for the moment he was led to the room in the back that was the guest room and his heart dropped. He was beginning to fucking hate guest rooms. 

*

When he returned to work he found that, despite his late night anxiety, Favs acted… normal. Maybe subdued, but normal. So Jon tried to do so as well, but it didn’t work, not really. Sometimes he tried to joke around in ad reads or in the middle of a show but inevitably his joke would fall flat and he would feel that painful little sting of missing him. 

Odd, being around someone all the time but he missed him all the same as if he was in Japan. They would brush against each other in the tight hallway as they left a recording session and he would feel almost nauseous with the proximity. 

The only time they actually talked during the week was on the Wednesday evening that they both stayed late. The dogs had been inseparable during the days, as if they knew that they weren’t going to ever go back to being back together at night. It was sad for him but he couldn’t do much about it. 

That Wednesday though, they were curled into a tight doodle ball and the one time that Favs had gone to grab Leo and pick him up, Leo had let out a low borderline aggressive whine. It was weird, Leo was never the aggressive type, Pundit was generally the aggressor, but nevertheless. For her part, Pundit looked up at Jon with wide sad eyes. 

“Maybe… she should stay over,” Favs said, after a few minutes of attempting bargaining with the two dogs. 

Jon’s stomach dropped. He was already feeling lonely enough, the concept of no Pundit felt like a punch to the sternum. But then he looked down at the dog and realized that Favs was, naturally, right. The two dogs had been with each other twenty-four hours a day for nearly a year, there was going to be a process to separate them. 

“Sure, you still have some of her food, right?” 

“Yeah,” Favs said. “I have almost a full container. And the parmesan cheese.” 

Jon looked at the dogs and leant down to rub at Pundit’s ears. “Okay, you’re going home with other da… Leo. I’ll see you tomorrow. Be good.” 

He stood up and turned on his heels, avoiding looking back. He was almost at the door when he heard Favs call his name. He closed his eyes and took a breath, braced himself and turned back around. 

Favs fidgeted from one foot to the other. “Do you want to come over?” 

“What?”

“We could hang out for a while. Talk.” 

Jon licked his lips. He tried to remind himself that he was being the grown up. He tried to remember what Dr. Manheim had told him. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.” 

“Lovett,” Favs said, and it was nearly a whine. “Come on. We at least get to be friends still, right?” 

The word friends out of Favs lips felt more hurtful than a lot of f words he had heard in his life. Just more proof of the distance he needed to keep. 

“Don’t forget to close the door to your room, or else she’ll be in your bed before midnight.” 

Favs’s eyes went wide, but Jon turned around and walked out. He couldn’t take another minute and he knew he couldn’t take a genuinely sad look on Favs face without giving in. 

 

* 

A week to the day from when he’d spilled his guts on the floor in front of Favs, he continued to mope on not-his bed. He kept his laptop open, watched music videos and the occasional sound bite from some show about something or another. He hadn’t exactly been glued to CNN or Fox for the week. He’d had enough of a constant headache. 

There was a knock at his door and he called out, “What’s up?”

“Hey, could you come to the kitchen? Hanna said something about mandal bread and it tastes fine to me, but…” 

She’d been cooking nonstop the whole damn week. He swore he would have gained ten pounds had it not been for Pundit’s new regime of running every morning. “I’ll be out in a minute.” 

He took off his jacket, feeling silly telling the Vietors they lived in a house built for penguins. Mandal bread was something he’d loved at his grandma’s house when he was young, he could be a good judge on this if he was needed. 

He took maybe ten steps before he reached the main room and froze. The room did not have Tommy, or Hanna, or delicious not quite cookies. 

“What are you doing here?” Jon asked, voice filled with anxiety and a little fear. Was this the moment he was served with divorce papers? He’d thought he’d prepared himself for that, but seeing Favs seated on Hanna and Tommy’s couch with an envelope felt like his whole world falling around him. 

Favs looked at the paperwork and up at him. “Your temporary visa came in the mail today.” 

It felt like an elephant stepped off of his chest. He inhaled as deep as he could. “Oh, that’s. That’s good.” 

“It’ll only work if you go to Canada and live there for a few years,” he said. “You have two years to make that decision.” 

“Wouldn’t I have to live with you?” Jon said and he wasn’t sure why he was even asking that, but he always ended up prodding a sore tooth. 

Favs looked up from the paperwork. “No. I… uh. I looked into that. As your sponsor, you don’t have to live with me. You would just have to live there for four years in six. Then you take the citizenship test.” 

“Oh.” 

“I figured you’d want it,” Favs said, as he set the paper work on the coffee table and went to push to get himself up. 

Jon felt a frenzy in his chest, some weird urge to just get him to stay, right there, possibly forever. “Hold on.” 

“What, Lovett?” Favs said, and he sounded so beyond exhausted that he was sure that his own insomnia wasn’t just him.. 

“Pundit,” he blurted. “Pundit has missed you. I… um. She’s outside. Hold… hold on.” 

He went to the door near him, even though he heard Favs making a noise of general annoyance. As soon as the door opened Pundit raced in and as if by tracking beacon ran directly at Favs. Jon would be annoyed, he was the asshole who’d been _running_ with the brat for the last week, but if he had the chance he’d probably go right to Favs too. 

“Hey Pundit,” Favs said, face spreading into a grin and rubbing at the dog behind the ears, on his head. Pundit started to lick at his face and jumped up on the couch. Hanna would kill him for letting the dog on their couch, but whatever, she was ninety percent on Favs either way. “I missed you too, yeah. Ew. Not in the mouth.” 

“Pundit, don’t be a hussy,” Jon said. 

Favs clucked his tongue. “Don’t slut shame our dog, Lovett, she can be whatever she wants to be.” It took a moment before Favs caught himself and shook his head. “Don’t slut shame _your_ dog.”

Well, that was a nice little stab to the chest. But Jon was pretty sure he deserved it. He stood there and watched Favs rub at Pundit’s stomach. The dog was basically curled up on his lap, wiggling back and forth. Favs was definitely as deflated as he was. It was there. He couldn’t just be imagining it. 

“She’s your dog, too,” Jon said softly. 

Favs frowned seeming on reflex. “Don’t.” 

“It’s the truth. You’ve been hers for almost as long as she’s been mine,” Jon said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “You smell like her brother. She’s been moping around this house for a week, well except the one night they got to play.” 

Favs can’t seem to look at him. “We’ll set up visitation with the dogs. I mean, beyond just the daily in the office.” 

“That’s where are at. Every other weekend and a few nights during the week?” Jon said, and his voice was tight even if he was forcing a smile. “Putting together a freaking visitation list for our dogs? What next, dividing the friends?” 

“You were the one who said it wasn’t healthy for you, Lovett,” Favs said. “Don’t fucking tell me what we should be doing when you were the one who left, okay?” 

Jon’s hands fisted at his sides. “Well, sorry but admitting that I love you and getting an ‘okay’ felt a little bit _unhealthy_ for me.” 

“I didn’t say ‘okay’,” Favs said, head suddenly snapped up towards him. “I didn’t say that.” 

“You might as well have,” he pointed at him. “You more or less backpedaled like I said I might have an STD and then walked _out of the room._ ” 

Favs blinked at him. “You told me you might love me, I needed time to process it. I wasn’t just immediately going to say it back and sweep you in a fucking kiss. You watched too many Nora Ephron movies, Lovett. I had to _think_. I’ve been with one guy in my life and, yeah, I might have thought about it before, but never in a epic, ‘can’t sleep without them, miss their dog, miss their mess, this is for the rest of my damn life’ type of way.” 

“I’m the one watching too many romance movies?” Jon gawked. “I said I love you. We’ve been married for almost a year and we slept together for four months. You’re the freaking one who proposed, _Favreau_. So don’t act like I sprung it on you from the middle of nowhere.” 

In Favs’s arms, Pundit rolled over, making a faint whine and curling up tighter in a ball. Favs hands started to pet her, rhythmically going over the curled up hair. Jon wanted to find it annoying, but damn if it wasn’t fucked up endearing and that was half of his feelings about Favs summed up. 

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Jon said. He looked at his feet and took a deep breath. He’d been practicing in his head to say this, even though he thought he would do it under his own terms. “You made it clear what you wanted and I wanted something different. We agreed at the start that this wasn’t going to fuck things up. So, whatever. It sucks. This situation sucks. And I hate it. But it’s apparently over? And so I’m going to take some vacation time and swallow my pride and we’ll move on. 

“I’ve worn out my welcome here. They are still like damn newlyweds and I’m taking up space. I’ll find a house. I’ll move my shit out of yours. We’ll act like this was a weird as hell period of time in our lives. When you find your inevitably perfect wife, we’ll play it off as a joke. That time we were husbands.”

At some point during his rant he heard the familiar jangle of Pundit standing up and his dog was at his side by the end of it. She was looking up at him like he was going to cry, which was most definitely projecting. His dog was amazing, but not exactly perceptive enough for that. 

He inhaled deeply, because he wasn’t going to cry about this in front of Favs. He had some freaking self respect. His head tilted up and he noticed Favs was maybe four feet away from him. He had to check his own perceptive skills if he didn’t notice the change of shadow. 

“What if I don’t want an inevitably perfect wife?” Favs said. 

“Well, or your inevitably perfect second husband,” Jon said, feeling weirdly numb and yet a little pissed at the same time. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate my contribution to your sexual awakening.” 

Favs rolled his eyes and took a few tentative steps forward. “What if I want my apparently oblivious first husband?” 

His brain hiccuped, he had to go over the sentence in his mind a few times. “Favs, I don’t … I can’t be a litmus test. I discovered that in college and I’ve pretty much stuck to it for 16 years.” 

“What part of a test is it for us after living together like we were married for a year?” 

“We are married.” 

Favs leaned in closer. “You are missing the point of this conversation on purpose, aren’t you?” 

“Maybe a little,” Jon admitted. There was no wall behind him to lean back on. Favs leaned in a little further and it was like Jon couldn’t actually help himself. Except. “Wait.” 

Favs pulled back instantly, putting enough space between them that Jon put a hand out to touch his chest just for contact. Favs looked like what he was about to say might hurt him. “What? Do you want space? Do you need time?”

“No,” Jon said, a weird bubbled laugh coming up in his throat. “You didn’t say it.” 

“Say what?” 

Jon shoved him with the hand on his chest. “I told you I love you. If you don’t, that’s … fine I guess. But if you do--” 

“I haven’t slept in a week, I called my mom just to tell her everything, I listened to a lecture about how stupid I was from four people and I accepted it each time,” Favs said. “Because I was stupid. I love you, Lovett, and I will love you even when you leave your clothes in a pile on our floor. Even when we are in our sixties and you complain about those damn kids on our lawn. Even if we move to Canada and you complain about the cold every day. I’ll love you, believe me.” 

Jon put his whole body forward and leaned up on his toes. It was stupid and reckless and could be the worst idea he’d had in awhile, which was saying something. But there was nothing he could think to do. 

He kissed him hard. He kissed him because it had been 15 days since he had and he’d missed it more than he thought possible. He kissed him because he hated every minute in the office that he wasn’t there, even when they weren’t talking. He kissed him because he held Pundit like he held Leo, curled in his arms like something precious. He put his hand behind his neck and Favs put his hands on Jon’s hips. 

He pulled back. “It’s only been a week, have you not been eating?” 

“I’m in a house with a concerned Jewish woman, Favs. _I’ve eaten_ ,” Jon rolled his eyes. “You got our dog into running. I haven’t been sleeping so at like four in the morning I’ve been running.” 

Favs eyebrows went up. “By yourself? On purpose?”

“Hilarious,” Jon drawled. “What about we go back to what we were doing?” 

He went up for a kiss but Favs shook his head. “Home. Let’s go _home_.”

And the word home sounded so good on Favs’s tongue, Jon would kiss him just to taste it. Instead though, he nodded and held a finger up. “I should pack my bag, and like … tell the Vietors.” 

“Hanna, Tommy?” Favs said, his voice only slightly louder than it’d been the moment before. Jon furrowed his eyebrows but a second later, Tommy and Hanna ‘casually’ walked out of the kitchen. “We’re going home.” 

Hanna put a fist out and Tommy bumped it. 

“Are you kidding me?” Jon asked, half about the fist bump and half because they’d been there the whole time? “You were listening in on that?” 

“We couldn’t hear anything,” Tommy assured him just as Hanna blurted out. 

“I have **not** been feeding you too much.” 

“Seriously?” Favs laughed and then tugged at Jon’s hand. “We’re leaving and taking the dog.” 

“You kids have fun!” Tommy yelled and both Jon and Favs flicked a good natured finger over their head. 

*

They were standing at the altar, Rabbi Leiber and Father Greg beaming at them. The fact that Rabbi Leiber had known Jon since he was about three and it was similar for Favs with Father Greg made it feel somehow more real. He was smiling so hard he thought his face was going to break. It was better than the tears that had started earlier. 

He caught his mom out of the corner of his eyes, tissue directly over her face and rubbing gently. She had helped him get ready that morning, insisting that the wear the tie that his father had worn to their wedding. It was a pale blue and thankfully only slightly hideous. But he didn’t care. He would have done anything she wanted. 

Jon had sent over a text to Favs that morning that simply read “ _Mexico_?” And gotten a response of “ _Tomorrow_ ”. He had thought that it had at least been worth a try. He’d spent too much time in the waiting room of the hotel. He had been antsy. Now Favs was looking at him, eyes damp and a smile that would have made the whole year worth it even without all of the shit that they’d gone through. 

“Do you, Jonathan Edward Favreau, take Jonathan Ira Lovett to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold as long as you both shall live? ” Father Greg asked. 

From beside Favs he heard Andy mutter, “Gd I hope so.”

It earned laughs from the groomsmen and a glare from Mama Favreau in the front row. Jon couldn’t help but give a wink to his brother-in-law.

“I most assuredly do,” Favs said. This earned a laugh from the whole crowd. 

Rabbi Leiber waited for a pause and smiled at Jon. “And do you, Jonathan Ira Lovett, take Jonathan Edward Favreau to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold as long as you both shall live?” 

“Asbo-fu—freaking—lutely I do,” he said, catching sight of his mom _just in time_ to avoid getting smacked afterwards. 

“Good,” Rabbi Leiber said. “May we have the glasses, please?” 

Two muslin bags were brought to the front by the Cantor. He looked up at Favs, who smiled at him. This wedding, thrown together in a grand total of four weeks, had been made as a hodgepodge of religiousness. They’d poured a container of sand together, along with their parents. They’d read passages from the Torah and the New Testament. They had the same chuppah, only this time they had his great grandfather’s tallis atop it. And now they were going to break the glass, the both of them. 

“This glass symbolizes the fragility of a what a marriage can be, in so breaking this we should remember that what we break can not be put together. Treat your marriage as you should treat a piece of glass, with care.” 

Jon had heard the speech before, at countless weddings. But looking back at the last year he realized just how much the words meant. He looked at Favs and knew he wanted this to be kept in his mind. His mother had bought a mezuzah to put the pieces in to serve as a reminder. He he lifted his foot as did Favs and they both smashed their separate cups. 

Everyone let out a holler and he heard half the crowd yell “MAZEL TOV!” 

Their relationship was going to be an adventure at the holidays. 

“Now, before we conclude,” Father Greg said. “I would like to ask you all to stay here as they walk out, so they may go to their separate room and have a moment of peace.” 

Jon loved his religion. 

“By the powers vested in us by the State of California, we now pronounce you married in the eyes of the government and Gd. You may now kiss each other.” 

Jon went in for a chaste kiss, as his parents were less than twenty feet away. Instead, Favs pressed his lips against his, cupping his face. He pulled back and knew he was blushing. Favs grabbed his hand and led him down the aisle, friends hollering. 

They walked into the waiting room and it was suddenly quiet. 

Favs kissed him again. “Hey, we’re married.” 

“We’ve been married for a year, Favs.” 

“Well, you know. Third wedding’s the charm,” Favs grinned. 

Jon kissed his husband, because he could.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Some Nights" with a tweak for gender. 
> 
> This story requested by puckling, betaed by celli. But also? Celli held my hand from a distance the whole time and this is a funny thing, as the first fic that made me fall in love with her fic was a fake marriage. (The lovely Woke Up Married, you should read it.)


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